Lost and Found
by JCI
Summary: Sasha Belov thought he was doing the right thing by leaving the Rock behind. Payson Keeler doesn't agree. A story of a coach and his athlete.
1. Lost

The GPS was completely insane. It was snooty and condescending and sending her in circles. It kept insisting that she had reached her destination, but the only thing in front of her was a hiking trail that led into the woods. The sky had become an ominous color, darkening by the second, the sound of thunder rolling in with the storm clouds. She stopped the car and shifted it into park. "Damn it," she yelled, slamming her hands against the steering wheel. She sighed, looking around at the trees, just starting to turn from their natural green from the unseasonably cold September, which had even traveled this far west, to Cambria, California. She sighed looking around and suddenly spied something, tire tracks, deep ones, tracks that could definitely be made by a large towing truck. They went down the trail that was easily big enough for a car to drive on.

_What the hell, I came this far_, she though, starting the engine up again. The drops began to fall as she drove over the dirt trail, then harder and harder before she could barely see in front of her, then suddenly, she was there, or at least she thought she was. It was a small cabin, no truck parked in front and no airstream trailer anywhere in sight, but the tracks seemed to continue around to the back of the house.

She got out of the car and despite the rain soaking her through almost instantly, she approached the house carefully. _What if it's not his house? What if it's some crazy murderer who…what, Payson? A crazy murderer who waits for girls to miraculously show up in the middle of a down pour? Stop it and knock on the door._

She knocked, repeatedly, the rain dripping down her face, mud slogging around what used to be her favorite ballet flats. "Sasha?" she called out, but knew her voice was probably drowned out by the storm. She pounded on the door again, this time with her fist, hoping he was home and that it in fact _was_ his home. She looked back behind her and up towards the sky, having to squint to keep the drops from blinding her. She turned again and nearly jumped out of her skin when the door was gone, replaced by a very confused and concerned looking Sasha Belov.

"Payson," he said, "What?"

She sighed, "Can I come in?" she asked, holding her hands out to indicate that she was getting drenched by the storm.

He shook his head, as if trying to jolt himself back to reality, "Right, of course, sorry," he said, stepping back, allowing her to enter. "What are you doing here? Did you come alone? Didn't you read my letter?" he asked, throwing the questions out rapid fire, not giving her a chance to answer. "Christ, you're completely soaked to the skin. Let me get you a towel." He shut the door behind them and left her standing in the front hall, leaving her stunned and completely unsure what to do with herself.

She could hear the storm raging outside as she looked around her. It was small, the cabin, but cozy in a way she hadn't expected. A warm fire was crackling in the fireplace; the kitchen was to her left, older, but neat and clean. The couch looked extremely comfortable, a mug of what she assumed was tea on the coffee table and a book lying open next to it. She took a step closer to examine it, but then frowned down at her muddy feet. She slipped off the shoes and left them on the mat, her toes curling uncomfortably on the cold wooden floor.

"Here you go," he said, emerging from the hallway at the far end of the room. He had two towels, one to remove the mud, the other to use once the mud was gone, she assumed. She bent over to get the mud off her ankles and calves, having been splattered as she walked from her car to his front door. She looked down at her clothes; the tunic she wore over her tank top was stretched out, hanging down around her knees, dripping, while the denim shorts were nearly black they'd been so saturated.

She heard Sasha sigh, "You can't stay in those clothes, you'll freeze. C'mon," he said, motioning for her to follow him.

"But I'll drip on your floor," she protested mildly.

"Worse things have happened to it," he said, continuing down the hallway. She followed quickly. He was digging around in a bureau, before he produced a pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved henley. "Here," he said, holding them out to her. "These have a draw string." He gave her a tight smile before leaving the room.

Payson took a moment to look around. This was his bedroom. A full sized bed, unmade was up against one of the walls. There was a nightstand, the bureau for his clothes and a small desk pushed under a window. She sighed and pulled the sopping tunic over her head, wishing she had a place to ring it out and hang it up. The tank underneath was just as soaked, so she removed that as well, frowning because it had served as her bra, a shelf lining sewn into it. Sasha probably didn't have a 34B to spare. She pulled the henley over her head with a frown. It was big on her, the sleeves going well past her hands and the hem hanging to her thighs, but tight across the chest as it obviously was made for a man not a woman.

She removed the denim shorts next, relieved to be rid of the heavy material. Her underwear was wet, but she wrinkled her nose at the thought of taking that off as well. _Stop it, Payson. _She slid the panties off and pulled on the sweatpants, even bigger on her than the shirt was. They were very soft inside, helping to warm her chilled skin almost immediately. She pulled on the drawstring, but it wasn't enough to hold them up, so she rolled the waistband over and over again, until the sweats sat snuggly on her hips.

Payson took up the towel and run her hair out in it, annoyed at herself for not having a band to pull it up with, though it would probably dry faster down, it was creating wet spots on her back.

She gathered her clothing in a small pile and exited the room. "Sasha?" she called, moving down the hallway, back towards the front room.

"In the kitchen," he answered. When she reached him, he had his back to her, pouring steaming hot liquid into a mug. He turned and caught sight of her, "Hey, I made you a cup of tea," he said.

She smiled, "Thanks, um, do you have some place I can hang my clothes to dry?" she asked, incidating the pile in her hands.

"Hmm, yeah sure, I have a big fire grate, that should do the trick," he said, putting the mug down on the counter for her. In two steps he'd reached her and took the pile from her hands.

She was silent for a second, before remembering exactly what was in the pile of clothes, "Sasha, wait," she said, following him into the living room quickly, but not quickly enough. Hanging from two fingers were the yellow boyshorts she'd been wearing, not exactly sexy lingerie, but definitely not plain cotton briefs. She snatched them from his hand quickly and they both stood in uncomfortable silence for a moment. "Sorry, I'll do that," she said. "They were soaking wet too."

Sasha's eyes nearly bulged out of his head at her words, but he shook his head and handed her the rest of her clothing back as she placed her clothing carefully over the grate. He cleared his throat and forced himself to move, "I'll get your tea," he said moving away from her and back towards the kitchen. Payson sighed. It was that familiar tension. The same feeling that had cut through the air in the days after she'd kissed him. _Damn it, I came out here to convince him to come back and all I've accomplished so far is embarrassing the crap out of him. _She hung her clothes up and sat down on the couch, frowning to herself. _Get it together, Payson. _She saw the book, still on the coffee table, and picked it up, examining the cover, _The Real Life of Sebastian Knight_ by Vladimir Nabokov.

Sasha came back into the room, holding out the steaming cup of tea for her and she laid down the book, take it gratefully. "Thanks," she said, the warmth seeping into the skin of her hands, causing a small shiver to run through her at the sudden contrast.

He cleared his throat, sitting down next to her, "It's good," he said, nodding towards the book. "You should read it."

"Thanks, maybe I will," she said, taking a sip of the tea, the warm liquid having an immediate effect, both inside and out.

Silence reigned for a moment, as they just sat there looking at each other warily, before Sasha sighed, "What are you doing here, Payson?"

She sighed, looking down at her mug, but then feeling her spine steel. She raised her head and met his eyes, "I came here to bring you back to Boulder."

Sasha frowned at her and shook his head, "Didn't you get my letter? I told you why I left," he began, but she cut him off, placing the mug on the table.

She pushed up, sitting atop one of her legs, "I read your letter, Sasha."

"And?" he asked, obviously not sure what she thought was unclear about the words he'd written.

"It was bullshit."

"Huh, and I thought I was being honest and encouraging," he said, sarcasm lining his tone, his eyes flashing at her.

"It was absolute bullshit, 'no obstacle you can't overcome if we face it together'. Complete crap. We're not together. Our team wasn't just the gymnasts, Sasha, it was you too."

He shook his head, "No, I was just your coach. My mere presence at the Rock was hurting you all. The Rock is better off without me. You're better off without me."

Payson shifted closer to him and took his hand. "The Rock is falling apart around me and you're the only one who can fix it, Sasha." She knew it wasn't fair to put it all on him, but it was true. The Rock was having major problems, mostly from within. Steve Tanner was head of the parents' board and his will was capricious and vindictive. Training at the Rock was not a pleasant experience for anyone these days.

"Do your parents know you're here?" he asked, looking down at their joined hands.

She shook her head, "No, they think I'm at Lauren's."

He snorted, "Lauren Tanner is your cover?"

"Lauren owes me," she said and the coldness in her voice was apparent even to Sasha. He raised his eyebrows at her and she sighed, "Lauren was the one who stole the disk from the training cam. She sent the picture of us to Beals."

He nodded and rubbed a hand over his eyes, "I figured it was something like that. How did you find out?"

Payson laughed humorlessly, "Ellen Beals of all people. She's losing her grip on the National Committee and in a last ditch effort to throw a counterpunch at us, she ratted Lauren out to her father. Not sure what effect she thought it would have except cause a rift, but maybe that was the goal."

His hand squeezed hers encouragingly and she looked down at them, having forgot the contact for a moment. The tension was suddenly back and she slipped her hands from his quickly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said your letter was bullshit. It wasn't. I just…I cried for days after you left. Then when I decided to take your advice to heart, to train and work and keep our team together, things just began to spiral out of control."

"How so," he asked.

She shook her head, "Steve Tanner removed my mom as gym manager, but we knew that was coming."

"Who's managing the gym?" he asked, though he should have known the answer.

"Summer and I like Summer and all, but she's completely overwhelmed and it's starting to show. She closed the gym on Sundays," Payson said, rolling her eyes. "Completely closed, not even just no classes. It's more than a little frustrating."

Sasha chuckled at her, "I bet she did. I'm sure she said something about if God had to rest, then so do gymnasts on an Olympic track." Payson squinted at him. There was an odd combination of affection and frustration in his voice.

"Almost exactly," she said. "I told her to shove it. I use my mom's key to get in and work."

Sasha furrowed his eyebrows, "You actually told her to shove it?"

Payson smiled guility, "I may have said something like 'shove it up your ass and save your sermon for someone who gives a shit'."

Sasha's eyes grew wider with every word, "Payson, that was…"

"Completely disrespectful and inappropriate, I know, but I was so frustrated. I apologized later."

"But you still sneak into the gym on Sundays anyway," he guessed correctly and she nodded. "Just you?"

"No, Austin too," she told him. "He trains a lot on the weekends now that Kaylie is away at that Nutrition Center or whatever Ronnie called the rehab they sent her too."

"Has there been any word about when she's coming back?"

Payson shook her head, "I spoke to her a few days ago. She sounded so angry. She's not allowed visitors either, so there isn't much I can do."

"And the other girls?"

This was it. This was how she was going to have to get him back. She needed to convince him he was needed. "Emily was devastated. She missed her court date and the judge tried to set an example by having her arrested for being in contempt of court. Beals is trying to have the arrest made into grounds for kicking her off the National team. She's still training, but she has absolutely no focus and I don't know what to do to help her. Lauren, not that she's in my good graces right now, but she is absolutely out of control. She waltzes around the Rock like she owns it, has her daddy do her bidding and her gymnastics is really suffering for it. It's all such a mess and I've been trying to hold everything together, but I can't do it by myself and focus on my training. Worlds are only four weeks away now and I just…" she trailed off with a sigh, not knowing what else to say.

She felt the couch cushions shift under her. She lifted a finger to wipe at the tear that escaped from her eye, not wanting him to see her crying, but when she looked up, he was right there, his hand following hers and brushing away a tear, before putting his arms around her and pulling her into his chest. She embraced him, burying her head into the crook of his neck. He stroked her back gently with one hand, while the other pressed against her neck lightly, trying to ease the tension there.

"Hey, it's alright. It's going to be alright. I promise," he said. She felt his warm breath ruffle into her hair, as she tightened her arms around him, inhaling deeply. It was a comforting scent, soap and aftershave and something uniquely _him_ that she couldn't identify.

After a moment she pulled back, "You promised to take me to the Olympics, remember? You promised we'd get there together."

He sighed and avoided her eyes, focusing on the curly mess her hair had morphed into as it dried. He tucked one of the wayward curls back behind her ear, before remembering himself and leaning back, away from her. "I did at that," he said. "But it's not that simple, Payson. There are roadblocks and honestly, as I told you in my letter, I don't think I'm the right person for the job."

She shook her head firmly, "You're the only man for the job." He opened his mouth to interrupt her, but she soldiered on, "No, listen. It's not that there aren't other gymnastics coaches who could do it, there are and I'm sure we'd find one," she said and he raised his eyebrows. "That's not the point. The point is that we need you. _I need you." _She refused to hedge anymore. This was why she came here, really. Why she left practice on Friday afternoon and drove almost twenty hours to find him. She needed him.

"Payson," he began, his tone apologetic and full of regret.

"No," she said. "You told me that the most important person in your life was your coach. That he made you into an Olympian. The only thing you've made me into is a member of a team attending the World Championships. I know it's selfish, but I need more from you. I need you to come back and take me to Worlds. I need you to be with me in London. I need you to be there when I win my gold medal. I can't do it without you and everything we worked for, everything we put into this, it was all for nothing." She swallowed back the tears, not going to allow herself to cry again in front of him. "I need you, Sasha."

She hadn't realized just how close they had gotten. They were no longer embracing, but their faces were only inches apart. He sighed and she felt his breath brush over her lips. His eyes flicked downward quickly to her mouth and then back up to meet her gaze and in a moment of what must have been sheer insanity, he began to lean forward, before quickly moving away. He ran a hand through his short blond hair and took a shuddering breath. "I have to sleep on it, Payson. I need to think it through."

She nodded, taking what she could get, but her heart was still racing, pounding against her ribs so loudly, she was sure he could hear it. "Okay," she said.

He stood up, "You go on to bed. I'll sleep out here," he said, walking towards a closet she hadn't noticed before and taking a blanket and pillow from it.

"I couldn't steal your bed. The couch is fine," she protested.

"Payson, this isn't up for discussion. Go on," he said, nodding towards his bedroom. "Sleep well."

She sighed in defeat and stood up, allowing him to begin making up the couch. She turned to leave, but before she did she put a hand on his shoulder. He paused in his work, his back to her. "Thank you," she said and moved away quickly, disappearing into his bedroom.

She looked at the bed she'd observed earlier, unmade. She grabbed the sheet and with a flick of her wrist, spread it across the bed, then did the same for the blanket, before crawling underneath the covers and resting her head on his pillow. The same comforting scent she breathed in when they embraced enveloped her, soothing her frayed nerves almost immediately. Her eyes drifted closed, her last hazy thought before sleep overtook her, was that she would happily fall asleep this way every night.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, so I know it's not another chapter of Not Just Yet, but Almost, but it wouldn't leave me alone. I couldn't get this scene out of my head. I even found myself saying some dialogue aloud today in my car on the way to work. Anyway, this is my own little Payson/Sasha version of what I'm sure will happen next season. Please let me know what you think. There will probably be one more chapter of this, but not for a little while. I want to get another chapter of Not Just Yet out first.


	2. Found

The storm was still raging outside, the thunder rumbling and every few minutes of so, a flash of lightning would light up the room. Sasha lay sprawled across the couch, making no real effort to fall asleep. The crackling fire was hypnotizing, allowing his mind to meander over the possibilities that lay ahead of him.

He'd left Boulder with the most honorable of intentions. After a few months as the head coach of the Rocky Mountain Gymnastics Training Center, he truly felt that he was doing the girls more harm than good. He'd always taken the Hippocratic approach to coaching, _first do no harm. _His reign had seen two girls in the hospital with possible life threatening and certainly career threatening injuries, another arrested and the other so desperate for love and attention that she would do anything, even ruin his career and the life of a teammate to get what she wanted. That's before you even begin to discuss his tenuous relationship with the NGO and its effect on the girls' chances at the Olympics. Then just when he thought he could move on, again, to try and forget how much he loved coaching, how much he loved his girls, the most special of them all had driven twenty hours, shown up at his doorstep, standing in the rain, begging him to come back.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. This shouldn't be that hard. He'd left his heart, in more ways than one in Boulder. He frowned at the thought of Summer. That woman had twisted him up inside, sending him veering out of control on a road he'd never intended to take in the first place. He saw her at World Trials, out of the corner of his eye, standing next to Steve Tanner in the lobby and then sitting next to him in the stands. If Tanner kept her on as gym manager, obviously there was no longer room in her life for him, a nonbeliever, one who had kept his head when she lost hers and then stomped on his heart because of it. He hadn't said, "I love you," to anyone in a very long time, more than ten years in fact and he knew he wouldn't say them again for a while. The pain was a wrenching one, deep in his gut and he was tired of it, tired of the games women played and tired of feeling this way. He knew that if he went back to Boulder, he'd see Summer every day, see her with Steve Tanner, and probably see her marry him. He waited for his heart to clench at the thought, but it didn't. He supposed he knew that ultimately, Summer wasn't the type of woman he'd end up with. She was wonderful, but at the end of the day, he had all the respect in the world for her values and she had none for his.

A chill ran through his body suddenly and he noticed the fire dying down. He stood and grabbed the fire poker, leaning against the mantle to stoke the flames. Looking down he saw Payson's clothes. _They must be dry by now_, he thought, putting the back of his hand against the denim shorts, the fabric that would surely be the slowest to dry. They were done, almost hot to the touch of his skin. He picked them up, then the tank and the tunic before eyeing the underwear. Sasha was a firm believer that the relationship between a coach and his athlete was one of the most complex relationships that existed. He'd told Payson that after she'd kissed him. It had been inappropriate and taken him completely by surprise, but he hadn't lied to her when he said he understood why she did it. There was an understanding between them that most people wouldn't comprehend. Despite being completely platonic, his relationship with Payson was the most intimate of his life. He'd never battled through anything with anyone else the way he and Payson had scratched and clawed together to get her onto the National Team. The hardest thing about leaving Boulder had really been leaving _her_.

He sighed and hooked his pinky into the waistband of the tiny yellow garment, before laying it at the top of the pile in his arms. He didn't know what he expected, not that he really had given it a lot of thought, but this little yellow scrap of fabric with a lace trim at the bottom had thrown him off. Intellectually he knew Payson was seventeen years old and remembering back to his own time at that age, he supposed girls had worn similar things then, but – he shook his head. He really should not be thinking about this.

He walked down the hallway silently, years of experience allowing him to avoid any floorboards that creaked. She'd left the door ajar and he pushed it open. He stepped inside, intending only to place the clothes on top of his bureau, when lightning flashed and illuminated the room. The image that caught his eye absolutely mesmerized him. It had been a long time since there'd been a woman in that bed. For a moment his mind didn't comprehend that this was Payson, his gymnast. For a moment, there was just a beautiful blonde young woman, her hair spread out across his pillow, wearing his clothes. The shirt had ridden up, exposing the smooth patch of skin that curves gently from her hips into her waist. She'd kicked off the covers in her sleep, and his sweatpants rode low on her hips. He looked down at the pile on the bureau and swallowed as he realized the true implication of that little piece of yellow fabric. It meant she was wearing his sweatpants and nothing else. Sasha shook his head quickly and another bolt of lightning lit up the room and she was just Payson again, looking very small and completely worn out as she slept soundly in his bed.

He sighed and moved towards her, pulling the covers up around her and then frowning. _How can I say yes to her? I made the right decision in leaving. _He took a step back walked across the room, sitting down in the arm chair on the other side of the bed. _How can I say no to her?_

As soon as Payson had opened her mouth and told him that the Rock needed him and that she needed him, he had felt the wall of arguments and excuses he'd built up inside himself crack. He couldn't stand the thought of Steve Tanner running roughshod over the Rock. He hated the idea of having broken his promise to Emily Kmetko, forcing her to try and trust someone else, yet again. He knew that Lauren Tanner thought she had gotten away with what she had done and that made him twitch in anger. And Kaylie Cruz, the National Champion, the girl who had it all, he knew he couldn't help her now, but when she left that facility and came back, what then? He was their coach and he'd let them down and then run away from it all, just like he had in England and Romania. It was what he was good at, running away. It was something his father had accused him of years ago. He shook his head. No, it wasn't true. His father had practically forced him away, throwing him to the wolves when he'd decided to compete for England in honor of his mother; then in Romania, after the high of the team Olympic gold, tragedy had struck, when Emilia died, leaving him without purpose and direction and no desire to coach gymnastics again.

Then Steve Tanner, damn him, had wandered right up to his front door and offered him something he couldn't refuse, the best club team he'd seen in years just a month and a half away from the National Championships, with legitimate Olympic contenders in the mix. It had played to his ego, finally healed after nearly five years of solitude and contemplation. He had never had an issue with confidence for long, not even after his personal failures. Was this another one of those times? Had almost a month away from the drama and intensity of working at the Rock wiped clean the hopeless feeling he'd had in his gut as he and his father had watched them roll Kaylie out of the arena on a stretcher?

He shook his head, no, he certainly still felt that. What had his father said? "You can't protect them from everything." No, but he could protect them from most things. He could protect them from Ellen Beals and the insane politics played by the NGO; he could protect them from people like MJ Martin and Steve Tanner, who saw dollar signs and power and not simply athletes with potential and dreams too big to accomplish on their own. He could protect them from the media spotlight by allowing the focus, negative though it may be, to remain on him and not on them.

Lightning flashed again, the silver of light allowing him to see Payson again. Then there was the most selfish reason of all. Payson Keeler was the most talented and driven athlete he ever had the honor to coach. Nicolai had once told him that they were a match, the perfect combination to win gold, and he had been right, four times over. After they'd both retired, Nicolai from coaching and Sasha from competing he had asked his mentor how he'd known they were a match? At the time he'd been toying with the idea of coaching and he was eager for any wisdom Nicolai could offer. His old coach had smiled at him and patted his shoulder affectionately. "You just know, Sasha. You know in the way a man knows he's found the woman he will marry. You know in the same way you feel when you've hit a routine perfectly. You just know."

Sasha just knew. Payson was his match. When she had finally bought into his idea to make her into an artistic gymnast, they had begun operating on a level he'd never imagined with any of his gymnasts. They barely needed to speak most of the time, an expression or a gesture enough for either of them to understand the other. They worked together almost like equals, complimentary pieces to a puzzle that when put together had created one of the most complete gymnasts Sasha had ever seen. Despite her despair over growing an inch, the small growth spurt had actually aided her in retaining some of her power, in spite of the other changes to her body, enough to incorporate power elements which complimented the new artistic style on each apparatus. He told her at the beginning of her transition that it was no longer about height in her elements, it was about lines, but somewhere, during her training, it had become about both. What the committee had seen at the trials had been but the tip of the iceberg. They thought they were getting an artistic gymnast and a great public relations story. In reality what they had on their hands was a major contender for the All Around gold medal at the World Championships and someone who'd still be around to push for that same gold in London during the 2012 Olympics. A captain who could lead Team USA both off the mats and on it, he shook his head in disbelief. They had no idea.

So that's what it came down to. Payson Keeler. Would he be able to take a step back, bow out gracefully and watch her accomplish those things on television, read about them in the paper and not be standing there to embrace her when she landed that last routine in London? Was it really as she said it was? Did she really need him to accomplish all of that? _You needed Nicolai, you wouldn't have done it without him, you know that_, a niggling voice in the back of his mind whispered to him. _He needed you too. He needed you just as much as you needed him. _He sighed heavily, so the real question wasn't if he wanted to go back to Boulder. The real question was would he survive if he didn't?

Sasha felt the warmth of sunlight hitting the back of his neck and his eyes fluttered open. A yawn briefly over took him as he looked around, taking in his surroundings. He lifted his head, but his neck and back quickly protested as he realized he'd fallen asleep in the armchair. He made to stretch, but then looked down realizing someone had covered him with a blanket. His eyes flicked to the bed and saw it was empty, the comforter now draped over him. He sat up fully, lifting the blanket off his lap and placed it back on his bed, quickly stretching his body out, feeling several cracks down his spine and one painful one in his left knee. Wincing he took a step and then another. Another yawn and a stretch of his arms over his head and he felt fully conscious, his senses now alert enough to smell a heavenly scent coming from down the hallway. Sausage and eggs and save him, fried tomatoes, real breakfast he rarely bothered with and he heard the kettle whistling indicating water was boiled.

He followed his nose down the hallway and into the kitchen where Payson was standing at the stove, spatula in one hand, frying pan in the other as she placed the sausages in the plate. This little scene of domesticity was almost too much for him. She stood there in his kitchen, wearing his clothes that were hopelessly too big for her, but flattering in a way that gave him pause. He shook his head, trying to rid it of the cobwebs of sleep that were sending his thoughts in this direction. He cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

She put the pan back down on the stove, lowering the heat and then turned to him plate in hand, with a smile. "Morning," she said and nodded towards the table. "I figured since I showed up out of nowhere _and_ stole your bedthat I at least owed you breakfast."

He smiled at her, "This looks incredible, thanks," he said reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

She shrugged and put the plate on the table, turning back towards the stove, probably to make one for herself. "You're not going to eat this are you?" he asked, looking at the plate loaded with things that would send the Rock's nutritionist into apoplexy.

She turned towards him, an eyebrow raised, "What do you care? You're not my coach." she said, her eyes challenging him to contradict her.

He put down the fork he'd taken up and sat back in his chair studying her carefully. "And what if I was?"

Her eyes lit up and he stood from his seat. "Seriously?" she asked, her eyes narrowing at him to be sure he meant what he said.

He nodded, "I'll come back to Boulder."

She let out a little shriek and launched herself at him. Her arms flew around his neck as she buried her head into his shoulder the way she had the night before, only this time in joy not despair. He allowed himself a moment to embrace her back, but then he sighed. "Hang on," he said, reaching for her hands and pulling back a little. "It's not that easy. I left, Payson. I left and there's no guarantee that the parents' board will just allow me back in."

Now she smiled at him in a way that he'd never seen before. She looked down at her bare feet and wrinkled her nose in frustration, a look he had seen in the gym as she was trying to perfect a new element. "You wouldn't happen to have a pair of size seven shoes lying around?" she asked.

He shook his head and laughed, "No, why?"

She smiled, "There's something in my car that might make your return to the Rock a little easier than you think." She went to the ledge that separated his front hall from the kitchen and snatched up her car keys. She stepped into the hall and eyed her ballet flats, still caked with mud from the night before. She sighed and put them on her feet gingerly before racing outside into the daylight, the sky having cleared beautifully from the storm the night before. He leaned against the door frame watching her open the passenger side door and pull out a thick envelope. She raced back towards him and kicked off her shoes quickly. "You couldn't have taken this time to get me a towel?" she asked, the tops of her feet streaked with mud.

He laughed, "Sorry," he said, moving into the kitchen and grabbing two hand towels, running one under water first. She'd set the envelope down on the ledge and cleaned her feet off quickly. She nodded towards the kitchen and they sat down together.

She opened the envelope. "I did some research into the charter, when Mr. Cruz and Mr. Tanner started the Rock, they had lawyers draw up operating rules, like how people get elected to the parents' board, how new coaches are hired and how they are fired. Turns out, the board is supposed to vote unanimously to suspend and/or fire a coach. Mr. Tanner never even held a vote. I guess most people assumed he had the power to do it."

Sasha shook his head, "This is all technicalities, Payson. He could hold a vote right then and there and have me officially fired and besides, I left remember? That's as good as quitting."

Payson smiled. It was that same grin from earlier. Sasha shook his head, some poor sop was going to fall victim to that smile and never recover. "But it's not and even if it was, the regulations also state that in order to hire a coach, the board needs a unanimous vote."

Sasha shook his head, "Well, that's that, then. There's no way Steve Tanner will allow me back."

"Oh ye of little faith," she said, pulling out a stack of papers from the envelope. "Letters from every Rock gymnast level four and up stating their intention to cease their training at the Rock if you aren't reinstated, including Lauren, and a petition signed by every other member of the parents' board, supporting you as a coach. Sasha, he has no choice. There's also another regulation in place," she pulled out a piece of paper, with a few highlighted lines, "If the majority of the parents' board feels that the elected President is not representing the interests of the athletes at the Rocky Mountain Gymnastics Training Center, they have the right to remove said President and hold a special election in which he or she may not be put forth as a candidate," she read, her voice growing in confidence as each word passed through her lips.

He stared at her, absolutely in awe of her. She'd thought of everything, every possible contingency or technicality that could be used against them. She'd done for him what he couldn't do for himself.

"Well?" she asked, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

He shook his head and smiled, "Are you sure you want to be an Olympic gymnast and not a lawyer?"

She returned his smile and winked, "There's always time for that later," she said. "So you're back?"

Sasha nodded, "I'm back."

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, I know, I said this would be two chapters, but maybe not. I don't know. I don't have this one planned out the way I do with NJY,bA, so we'll see. For right now, consider this complete, but never say never. ;-) Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think. A lot of this was Sasha's stream of consciousness and I'm wondering if I got him right or if it's still a little off! I've never stayed inside his head for quite so long before.


	3. Strength

Sasha sat the bar of the hotel nursing his Jack Daniels on the rocks. He just returned from the most torturous part of major competition, the coach's reception, where everyone gathered together to gossip, brown-nose and quite simply, waste his bloody time. He'd removed his tie, shoving it into the pocket of his suit jacket. The top button of his collar was undone, the cuffs of his sleeves unbuttoned, rolled up his forearms. He smirked to himself; they called him a rebel coach, so he may as well look the part.

He'd been staring into space, sipping slowly, hoping it would take the edge off. This competition had not gone as planned, although things rarely did in the world of elite international gymnastics. The 2010 World Championships had been the women's national team's chance to put the world on notice that they were a serious threat in international competition, but they had failed to make the impression they desired. Competing without their National Champion at full strength, as Kaylie's bars routine was the only one she'd had time to prepare for the competition, Payson had slid into the role of team leader. Andrea Conway had choked on her first two routines, falling off the bars, _twice_ and then sitting down on her vault. The failure was contagious, as athlete after athlete began missing small skills and then larger skills, sliding the team down to fifth after the first day of team competition. On day two, Payson put the US team on her back, rallying her teammates in a speech that made him proud and leading them to the bronze medal. A minor miracle considering the hole they dug themselves the day before.

_The small space of floor occupied by the American team was silent with tension and frayed nerves. Sasha frowned at the expressions of utter defeat on the faces of the girls. They hadn't even begun their first rotation and they looked completely finished. He sighed, about to call them all around him, when he saw Payson out of the corner of his eye. She was taking in the same things he saw, the slumped shoulders, the wide eyes and she pursed her lips. Shaking her head, she called out to her teammates, "USA, over here," she said, pulling them into a huddle._

"_We did not come here for this. I didn't come here for this. Look at those standings." The girls turned to where she was pointing, the large scoreboard that had them listed in fifth place. Sasha smiled at the tone of her voice, not loud, just firm and confident. "We are not a fifth place team. We are so much better than that. We've worked our entire lives for moments like this, for a chance to prove that we are among the best in the world. All we've done so far is get here. That's not enough for me and I don't think it's enough for any of you. So I say we fight. We fight tooth and nail for ever hundredth of a point. No wavers or wobbles. We are going to make the best gymnasts in the world remember what we did here today, so the next time they see us, they'll know what they're facing. Okay, let's bring it in," she said, putting her hand out, quickly covered by her teammates'. "On three, USA, one, two, three."_

"_USA!" the girls shouted together. The other girls had been visibly lifted by her words. _

_Then the rotation began, Payson leading them off on beam, a result of her late appointment to the national team and Ellen Beals's continual disapproval of her inclusion at the World Championships. It was a small form of protest that Sasha's gymnasts led off each event, practically forcing the judges to keep their scores lower to allow room to grow as a rotation went on. _

_It didn't matter. She was solid as a rock. She flew above the four inches, tumbling and twisting upon it like she had all the room in the world, not a balance check or hesitation to be found. As she dismounted, her feet pounded into the mat firmly and her arms flew up, not in salute but as a signal of victory. She turned quickly towards the judges, but then looked at her teammates and pointed. "Let's go," she called to them, breaking protocol as she ran down the stairs from the raised floor._

_She embraced him quickly, before pulling back and smiling up at him. "Excellent," he said. "And I don't mean the routine."_

"_I know," she said with a grin, pulling away from him as she was embraced by her teammates, before they focused on cheering Lauren through her routine. _

Sasha smiled as he thought of the practical miracle she'd worked. The next thing everyone knew, the US was back, nailing their routines with authority. The girls carried themselves with visible defiance, letting everyone know that they were a force to be reckoned with. They pulled ahead of France and then Russia, only hundredths of a point behind Romanian. It had been an astounding comeback.

Yet, Sasha was still concerned. The pressure had been weighing heavier and heavier upon Payson's shoulders ever since. American gymnastics was looking for its next golden hope and right now the only candidate was Payson Keeler. She was strong, she could handle it, but he wasn't sure if he could. She'd been the only gymnast to qualify for the All-Around after the disastrous first day of competition for the other girls. He was angry, for her. She'd been underscored all day, the judges obviously having no idea what to expect from the gymnast who had broken her back only months before, then suddenly recovering and working back to compete at an extremely high level. It shouldn't have had any impact on their judging, but it did. By the time the competition was half over, the judges seemed to snap out of their haze. She was sitting in fourth place, still in striking distance, but it would take a flawless performance in the All Around finals, to catapult her into first place and she would have to hope for a few mistakes from the girls ahead of her.

He took another small sip of the Jack Daniels, letting the harsh liquid slide down his throat. He saw a woman at the end of the bar. She'd been pretending not to look at him for the last few minutes. Pretty, not stunning, long red hair. His eyes flicked over her quickly, taking stock, more out of habit than anything else. A slinky black silk dress covered her generous curves, her long, toned legs crossed to the side, allowing him to get a full view. Her feet were encased in heels that made him smirk. _Fuck me shoes_, he thought to himself. His eyes traveled upwards again and met her gaze. She smiled at him invitingly, having noticed his gaze and obviously no longer playing coy, but he pointedly ignored her, focusing on the window that looked out onto the busy city street just outside the hotel and then looking back down at his glass of whiskey.

Sasha sighed, swirling the brown liquid around, the ice clinking cheerfully against the sides. He took a final sip before tossing a few bills on the bar. He picked up his suit jacket, the formal dress a requirement for the mandatory coach's dinner that evening. He left the bar being sure to stare avoid the eyes of the woman, lest the redhead think he wanted her to follow him. _What would be wrong with that? You could use a little release. How long has it been? So long you can't even remember. _He turned back towards the bar and chuckled to himself when he saw a man already sitting next to her, signaling to the bartender for two more drinks. He laughed to himself ironically. _What is it that Austin says when someone wipes out at the Rock? Epic fail. _

He made his way to the elevators and then down the hall to his hotel room, pausing as he saw Nicky Russo stepping out of one of the doors a few down from his. Russo stopped and stared at him, like a deer caught in the headlights. The door shut behind him and it seemed to spur him into action, moving down the hallway.

"Sasha," he said, quickly, completely avoiding eye contact.

"Nicky," he said nodding to him, as the young man quickened his pace, disappearing around the corner. Sasha almost dismissed it as nothing, before a small voice at the back of his mind reminded him of exactly whose room was three doors down from his. _Shit, time to go be the bad guy. _

He pocketed his hotel room key and walked down the hallway, knocking on the door. His eyes drifted to the ceiling, wondering how he was going to approach Kaylie about this, when the door opened. He blinked, thinking his eyes were deceiving him, when the girl who opened the door wasn't the brunette National Champion, but someone else entirely, the last person he expected.

"Payson? I thought this was Kaylie's room?"

Payson wrinkled her nose, "No, she's one more down, we're attached," she said, opening the door wide to show him the door that connected the two rooms.

He stood there speechless for a moment. She looked at him oddly, "So, what's up?" she asked, tilting her head in question.

"I uh," he hesitated, but then shook himself from the stupor, "I just saw Nicky Russo leaving your room, Payson." He felt like an idiot as the words passed his lips.

Her eyes widened, before she chuckled lightly, "And you thought..." she trailed off. "Sasha, Nicky was just wishing me good luck tomorrow; well actually, for the most part he talked about how he's in second place and has a real chance to beat Austin tomorrow. Did you think..." her voice died as her cheeks turned a pink hue.

Sasha smiled at her embarrassment. "Either way, you're not supposed to have boys in your room, Payson."

Then she laughed, she actually laughed at him. "Sasha, I'm sitting just off the podium, two tenths of a point behind Genghi Cho and you think Nicky and I were in here hooking up?" Then her laughter shifted from obvious amusement to something else entirely. It was more hysterical, than lighthearted. "I'm just our country's only hope on the women's side to medal, but no, I'd just throw it all away to make out with Nicky Russo." Her voice grew higher in pitch with each word, her eyes no longer focused on him, but clouded over, almost unseeing.

"Payson, are you alright?" he asked, concern flooding him for his gymnast. He hadn't seen her look this shaken since that night at the Rocky awards months ago.

She took a shuddering breath, "No, I don't think I am." She looked up at him and he was stunned to see tears in her eyes.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said, stepping into the room. She allowed the door to shut behind him and then suddenly she was in his arms. She was trembling, as he put his arms around her, pulling her close, gently rubbing her back in what he hoped was a soothing way.

"It's not okay," she insisted, "I know this is what I wanted, what we worked for, but I don't know if I can do this." She buried her head against his neck. "I have to be perfect tomorrow."

He led her to the sofa at the other end of the room. "No you don't," he said, as they sat down together. "Perfection is impossible, Payson. Don't go out there tomorrow thinking you have to be perfect." _That's rich. You were just thinking not ten minutes ago that she would have to be flawless to win. Don't lie to her._ "Payson, where is this coming from? You were so confident yesterday. You've never worried like this before."

She pulled away from him, taking a deep breath, trying to calm herself. "It's everything. I tried so hard during the team competition to get the girls back into it and it wasn't good enough. We should have been able to easily win the silver. And now tomorrow I have to go out there and take on the whole world by myself. What if I don't medal? What if all of our hard work has been for nothing? What if your faith in me doesn't pay off?"

He pulled back from her, looking at her incredulously. "Hey, look at me," he said, lifting her chin with his finger, forcing her eyes up to his. "You are an incredible young woman, Payson Keeler. The fact that you're even here at this competition."

She cut him off, "Save the 'just happy to be here' speech, Sasha. I just got the same one from Nicky." She seemed annoyed now, though at what Sasha had no idea.

"That's not what I was going to say," he told her, brushing a lock of blonde hair away from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear.

Payson looked at him expectantly, "Then what were you going to say?"

"Before you so rudely interrupted me," he added, hoping to get a smile out of her. It worked. She shook her head, giving him a small eye-roll and an even small grin. "That fact that you're even here at this competition proves how tough you are. If you can get through breaking your back and Ellen Beals deliberately trying to sabotage your career and me walking out on you, forcing you to drag me back." She opened her mouth in protest, but he stopped her, taking one of her hands between two of his. "For someone like you, Payson Keeler, two tenths of a point is nothing. Do you have to do well tomorrow? Yes. You have to go out there and nail your routines and if you do, you're going to show the world what a real champion looks like. I can't believe I even have to say this to you. You were so strong the other day for your teammates."

She sighed, "I guess it's easier to be strong for other people than it is to be strong for yourself."

He nodded, "Wise words." He sighed. "Do you remember the night of the Rocky awards?" he asked, knowing she did.

She smirked, "How can I forget. I was behaving like such a little brat, upset because of other people's success."

He smiled at her recollection. "That wasn't really why you were upset, and we both know it, but that's not the point. Do you remember what I told you that night, about passion and belief?"

She sighed, nodding her head, her eyes meeting his. "You told me that the passion comes from where you want to be, not where you are."

He nodded, squeezing her hand lightly, "And what else?"

She looked down at their joined hands and squeezed back, "And you would believe for me, even if I couldn't."

"Exactly and I will continue to do so. I'll make you a promise, Payson, right now. You will never be the only person you can count to be strong for you. I will always be here."

She let out a slow breath, pulling on his hand, bringing him nearer and embracing him, her arms around his neck. Slowly he brought his arms around her, hoping she was taking some strength from the embrace. "And we'll get there together," she said, echoing his words from months before.

"Together," he whispered into her hair, as her arms tightened around him. They lingered, perhaps just a few seconds too long and they pulled back, Payson avoiding his eyes. "Get some sleep," he said, cutting through the tension. It dissipated almost immediately. "Tomorrow, you're going to beat the living hell out of the rest of the world and you'll need to look well rested on the top of the podium."

They stood and she walked him to the door of her room. "Good night," he said, his hand on the doorknob.

Her hand on his arm stopped him. "Sasha," she said. He looked back at her. She stood on her tiptoes, leaning against his shoulder as she brushed her lips against his rough cheek. She hovered there for a moment, then she whispered, "Thank you." Her breath floating over his ear gently. She sank back down flat on her feet. His brought his hand up to cover the one she'd placed on his arm. He squeezed it briefly. "Good night," she said, as she released him, stepping back.

He left the room, hearing her door click shut behind him. He walked back towards his room, movement catching his eye down the hallway. It was the woman from the bar, the man who'd approached her in his absence, fumbling with his room key as she leaned against him, sucking on his earlobe. The redhead looked up, catching his eye. She raised her eyebrows ironically and he couldn't help the smile that formed on his face as he shook his head. With one swipe of the car he was in his hotel room, the door shut firmly behind him. He brought his hand up to the cheek Payson had kissed and then laughed softly at himself for his sentimentality. Tomorrow, she'd show the world what she was made of and he would be there to embrace her when she was through.

* * *

**A/N: **So I was sitting at work today, contemplating the next chapter in _Not Just Yet, but Almost _and suddenly inspiration struck for this story. It's going to be approximately 18 chapters long (yes, I pretty much know what's going to happen in each one) and probably be what _Almost_ was supposed to be to begin with before it morphed into the monster it currently has become: moments between Payson and Sasha leading up to and beyond the Olympics. I'm excited because focusing on two fics at once seems to help me get inspired to write the other, it's like an internal competition for my attention and there's never anything wrong with a little friendly competition. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter. This story is very different from _Almost_ and I hope that's coming through in my writing, sometimes it's difficult to change gears completely. Please let me know what you think!


	4. Fire

Four rotations, that's what it would come down to. Bars, beam, floor and vault and then it would be over. Four rotations and she could be the World Champion of her sport, one of the many stepping stones to an Olympic title. Payson sighed as she sat on one of the chairs that lined the raised podium they would compete upon. She looked to her left and there was Genghi Cho and her coach very seriously discussing something. Then to her right, Mila Petrescu, currently in second place from Romania. Further down, the only other gymnast in her rotation, Dania Krieg from Germany, sitting third, the first person Payson would have to pass. Payson looked up at the leader board. Two tenths of a point in four rotations. Was it possible? Yes, it was possible. She simply had to hit every one of her routines. She couldn't give the judges any excuse to chip at her execution scores and everyone ahead of her had to make a mistake or two. She recalled Sasha's reaction to the scores that put her into this hole to begin with.

_Payson felt her feet press into the mat with authority as she raised her arms above her head in salute then turned to the judges and saluted them. The crowd was roaring, every person on their feet screaming and cheering for her and what the media had been calling the greatest comeback gymnastics had ever seen. She jogged off the mat, but didn't get very far since Sasha had been standing nearby to spot her during one of her release skills. His arms wrapped around her tightly, as they both held onto each other. It was her first routine in competition since her injury and of course it would have to be bars in the first rotation, the very same apparatus she'd broken her back on at Nationals. The routine had been secondary to most people in the arena, but to Payson and Sasha the rock solid performance she'd just given was proof positive, she was back._

"_That was beautiful," Sasha murmured into her ear. His words made her tighten her arms around his neck. _

"_Thank you," she whispered to him. _

_Suddenly, the crowed let out a groan of disappointment. They both pulled away quickly and looked up at the leader board. A 16.2, generally not a bad score, but definitely not where it should have been considering the difficultly of her routine. _

"_That's complete and utter bull shit," Lauren Tanner practically screamed as Payson made her way down the stairs to where the rest of her teammates were standing. _

"_It's fine," Payson said, glaring at her teammate whose outburst had probably been caught by eight different cameras._

"_It's not fine, Pay," Emily said. "That score is way too low."_

_Sasha was standing with them suddenly, "They didn't know what to expect," he said, his hand on Payson's shoulder. He squeezed gently and she looked up at him. "Or they're afraid of being accused of getting caught up in the moment, so they underscored you." Sasha shook his head, his jaw clenching in frustration. "Bloody politics."_

_Payson shook her head, "It's fine. C'mon, Andrea's up on bars." Payson turned to face the podium. "Let's go, Andrea," she cheered, looking at her teammates, urging them to join in. _

It was after that disaster struck. Andrea managed to fall off the bars twice during her routine and the carnage became contagious. Lauren lost her momentum mid-routine and had to muscle her way back up to the high bar to finish it off, barely having the strength to dismount, Emily, who'd been landing her full-in back out dismount for months, sat down on it, and Kaylie's routine had been shaky at best. The judges on beam had reacted similarly, giving her a 15.8, high enough not to be a complete disaster and a great score for most gymnasts, but still too low based upon her performance and level of difficulty. The judges seemed to relax after that, her scores on the floor and vault almost exactly what she and Sasha had expected, as they realized she was a legitimate contender after two solid routines in a row. The damage had been done, however, comparatively and now she had to scrape and claw for hundredths of a point in order to just medal, let alone win the event.

Payson closed her eyes and let the music in her iPod was over her, drowning out the extraneous noise of the arena, the foreign chatter around her and any distraction in her line of sight. The only thing she could see were the uneven bars as she visualized her routine. Her body would fly through the air, creating beautiful lines, soaring with impossible height on her release moves, her legs glued together, her toes pointed during each and every skill, full extension, no separation, no break in momentum or rhythm, a flawless dismount and a stuck landing.

She opened her eyes and saw Sasha standing in front of her, holding out her grips, his mouth set in a firm line. She stood, stripping off her track suit bottoms, taking the grips from his hand, she slipped them on. "Ready?" he asked under his breath.

"I've been ready for this my entire life," she said, taking the grips and pulling them onto her hands, walking up onto the platform and chalking up for what she knew had to be the bar set of her life.

It was.

The score from the first night of competition was a distant memory now, as Payson looked up to see a 16.85 flash up next to her name. The crowd let out a cheer, almost sarcastic knowing that score was much closer to where it should have been when Payson first performed the routine.

She quickly freed her wrists from the grips and began mentally preparing herself for her beam routine as the rest of the girls in her rotation performed. She didn't look up, not when the crowd cheered, nor when it groaned, just kept her eyes on the floor in front of her, visualizing the beam, going through the balance elements. She put herself into a handstand, checking her center of gravity, feeling the strength in her arms and core, pointing her toes before walking out of it and standing again, perfectly aligned to where she began. She opened her eyes and saw Sasha standing not two feet from her. She moved next to him as she saw the other gymnasts begin to pack their bags. The rotation must be complete. She moved towards the row of chairs where she'd put her things, but Sasha put a hand on her arm to stop her.

"A dead heat for third," he said, under his breath. She bit her lip and nodded.

"What happened?" she asked, picking up her bag.

"You were better," he said, with a shrug.

She joined the rest of the girls walking towards the beam in a line. She tried not to let the smile appear on her face as she looked up towards the leader board. There it was:

1. Genghi Cho [CHN]

2. Mila Petrescu [ROM]

3. Payson Keeler [USA]

3. Dania Krieg [GER]

The only problem was that she hadn't gained any ground on either Cho or Petrescu as they had hit their routines, maintaining their lead.

She put her bag down on a seat and immediately walked up the steps with the rest of the girls to prepare briefly on the beam before the rotation would begin. She smiled at Dania, the reigning European silver medalist as she worked before her. Payson had never been into head games or trash talk, but she wasn't above getting in her opponent's head. Dania stood off to the side as Payson climbed atop the beam, intending to practice only one skill. She found her balance quickly at the edge and then taking two steps launched into her new dismount, a move she knew that Dania could not replicate. They both knew Dania's efforts on beam wouldn't stand up to a head to head battle with Payson's, mostly because of this dismount.

It was the Arabian double front, the same dismount Payson had seen Carly Patterson do at Nationals when Payson had still been a junior. She won her first junior national championship at that meet, but the highlight away from the competition had been meeting her idol. She smiled as her feet hit the mat solidly, replicating Patterson's signature dismount perfectly. She nodded to herself and then moved away from the beam. She chanced a glance at Dania. The German gymnast smiled at her tightly, but Payson saw the tension in her eyes. After this rotation, she'd be on the podium. She looked at the leader board one more time, frowning at the names ahead of hers. The only question was would it be bronze, silver or gold?

"That was almost cruel, Payson," Sasha said as she walked towards him, the warm up session still going on behind her.

"Only three rotations left. She needs to be put away before we go to floor," she responded, meeting his eye. She saw a fire there that she'd never seen before, at least not in person. When he was competing the announcers had always talked about the raw passion Sasha brought to the sport, a fire that most gymnasts suppressed in themselves. It was how he succeeded, how he pushed through the pain and took the risks he needed to take in order to win. She knew some of that intensity had flowed into her as they trained together. The press had been commenting all week about how Sasha's newest protégée was _his_ gymnast, his training style easily identifiable in her routines: high risk and high reward. To have that expression directed at her made her entire body hum in response. It was like an adrenaline high, the energy flowing from him into her.

"Ruthless," he whispered, with an approving nod. She smiled at him and he returned it, their gaze holding for one moment and then another. Suddenly, his eyes tore away from hers and focused back towards the beam. "Let's go. You're up."

It was a near flawless routine, she was sure of it, as she raced off the podium down to the floor. Sasha hugged her quickly, but they pulled away, looking at each other with the same smile on their faces. It would easily be enough to pass Dania, whose coach grimaced in their direction just before he focused on his own gymnast who was approaching the beam. The German coach shook his head and Payson nearly laughed aloud when Sasha shrugged helplessly as if to say, "I'm just her coach, she's the one to blame for your girl going home without a medal."

The score came up just before Dania got the flag from the judges, a 16.225 and so the German gymnast went up onto the beam knowing she would be in fourth place with two rotations to go even if she scored a perfect ten for execution on her routine.

They walked to the floor exercise at the center of the arena. The lead had narrowed; she was five hundredths of a point behind the Romanian, Mila Petrescu, the European champion and a tenth of a point behind Genghi Cho. Payson sighed. Where floor had once been her weakness as a gymnast, if she'd had one, it was now easily one of her strengths. It was her floor routine that had convinced the judges during the first day of competition that not only was she back, but she was a major contender.

She simply stood at the edge of the podium, waiting for the other girls to complete their warm-up tumbling passes. It had all started with floor, this comeback. It was the routine that would need the most work, and the one place where Sasha could rebuild her from the ground up. She could still remember the first time she'd nailed the dance elements to the routine, how she'd stupidly kissed him as irrepressible joy flowed through her body. The fallout of that moment had nearly cost him his career, but it had led them to this moment, where their mutual sacrifice hung in the balance.

She looked over at him, just a few feet away studying her competitors. She took a few steps to close the distance between them and stood next to him, focusing her eyes on the floor. Their hands brushed, once, then twice, the rough pads of his fingers grazing the back of her hand. She felt that same energy flowing through her, as if her skin could somehow absorb his passion and fire. She stepped away, not looking at him as she moved onto the floor to run through her tumbling passes before this rotation began. She ran through her first, then her second, feeling lighter than air as she turned and twisted from one end of the floor to the other. She moved off the mat and looked at Sasha who was staring at her intently with his eyebrows raised. The other two passes felt the same, she allowed herself to fly across the floor, landing smoothly. Something felt different. She looked to Sasha again, whose eyes were still focused upon her.

She would be competing first again, so she simply waited for the judges to signal her as the rest of the gymnasts left the floor after their warm-ups. The flag went up and she moved into the middle of the floor. Her heart was racing, so she took a calming breath and then another, before folding herself down to the mat and waiting for the music to begin.

Her feet barely touched the ground as she ran off the mat to the cheers of the crowd. It was loud, louder than she'd ever heard before. It had been perfect, or as perfect as a floor routine could be. She'd felt it, after months and months of training, the ballon she'd been trying to perfect, the seed Sasha planted into her mind months ago at the ballet had bloomed at the perfect moment, accompanied by a freedom she hadn't felt in her tumbling since before her injury. She wasn't sure of the height, but she knew it had been impressive if the crowd's reactions were any indication. She didn't even make it to the stairs, jumping down from the raised floor with Sasha's help. He embraced her tightly, her head burying against his chest.

"I have no words, Payson," he said to her, kissing the top of her head. She pulled back and looked up at him. He had tears in his eyes, one escaping and running down his cheek.

She laughed, reaching up to wipe it away, "Don't cry yet, I haven't won yet," she said, and he joined her in laughter. They pulled away and Sasha wiped roughly at his eyes. "You're such a softy, Belov. You crying at the World Championships might get a whole chapter. I'll call it the Bawling Belov."

"Oh, so I've made the cut?" he asked, smiling down at her brightly.

She grinned, "For now."

They sat down together, watching the remaining routines, a camera man now planted firmly in front of them as the television networks seemed to sense that they may be seeing something special tonight. They sat in a comfortable silence as they waited for her score. Then suddenly the crowd roared as a 15.85 flashed across the scoreboard. Sasha grabbed her hand and squeezed it, "Would you look at that?" he marveled. He turned to look at her. "Almost there," he said. Payson could practically see the wheels in his head turning, doing the complicated math, trying to figure out where she stood with the rest of the leaders still to compete.

"Almost there," she agreed. One rotation remaining, though she didn't know how much ground she had left to make up yet.

He turned to her. "The vault," he said, almost to himself and Payson looked at him curious what was going on behind those steely blue eyes.

"Sasha?"

He stood and walked away from the camera and she followed through the crowd of gymnasts and coaches. "The Amanar. You need it," he said.

She shook her head, "You said it wasn't ready."

_Payson landed on her back again, the breath leaving her body with a soft grunt. "This is insane, Sasha. I grew, I can't do vaults like this anymore. You said so yourself."_

_They were the only ones left at the Rock and Payson was frankly tired of landing on her ass. She'd have bruises in the morning, if it wasn't morning already; she'd stopped paying attention to the time after nine o'clock. _

"_You can do this one," he said, one arm crossed over his chest, the other rubbing at his chin in thought. "You've adjusted to the height in the other events; you need to up your DOD."_

_Payson sighed, ""It's my first vault, it doesn't have to have a highest DOD in the world. The double twist isn't enough?" she asked. _

_Sasha glared at her and she rolled her eyes. _"_Not at the Olympics it won't be," he said. "Do it again." Sasha indicated the run and she stood with a sigh, making her way back towards the other end of the gym to start again. She stood staring at the horse at the end of the run and then she looked towards Sasha. He was staring at her, "Payson, as you go into the vault, I need you to release your center of gravity, the way you do on the jetés on the floor. Let yourself fly," he called._

_Payson frowned, "You're always preaching control on the vault."_

_He shook his head, "No risk, no reward."_

Payson blinked, shaking herself from the memory. She'd been landing the vault consistently in practice ever since, but that was practice. This was the World Championships. "Sasha," she said. The cameraman had finally caught up with them. He looked towards the camera and frowned. The crowd was cheering now, the score for Genghi Cho, the final competitor on the floor was up. A 15.85, the same score as Payson. Cho had maintained her one tenth lead. She'd moved into second place, leading Mila by two tenths of a point, she was securely in silver medal territory now, but silver wasn't the color of her dreams.

Sasha's quick calculations had been correct. In order to beat Genghi Cho, in order to_ win_ she'd need her more difficult vault, a vault she'd never performed in major competition before, a vault that, if she landed it, would allow her to pull away from Cho, but if she didn't, could possibly send her tumbling off the podium as well. She looked towards Sasha, "No risk, no reward."

When Genghi Cho attended the Rock Invitational, she'd scored a 16.025 on her vault. Payson knew if she landed the Amanar, a Yurchenko with two and a half twists, with a start value of 6.5 she would beat that. It was just a matter of staying on her feet. Their group marched to the fourth event. As Payson approached the line of chairs set up for them, she suddenly heard a large group of people yell as one, "Payson!" She looked up to see her teammates, male and female occupying a box close to the floor. She'd seen them earlier, but this was easily the closest she'd been to them all day. She smiled and waved, as she dropped her bag and turned towards where Sasha was approaching the judge's table, changing the vault she was going to attempt.

She joined her fellow gymnasts in warm-ups, a murmur going through the crowd nearest the apparatus. The other gymnasts hadn't noticed, too focused on their own vaults, but she saw the Chinese coaches speaking furiously to one another down on the floor. She smiled inwardly as she moved back down to the floor towards Sasha who'd returned from the judges table.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his eyes holding that same fire she'd seen earlier, but she knew she wouldn't have to draw from it this time. This time, she had her own.

"Let's go," she said. He held her gaze for a moment before a small smile broke out on his face. She vaguely noticed the cameraman approaching from their left.

"Whatever happens," Sasha murmured. "I am so proud of you."

She nodded and moved towards the raised floor, her hand briefly touching his arm as she passed him, then jogging up the stairs to the end of the run. Her number flashed on the screen behind her, followed by a 6.5 just below it. She saluted the judges and stepped onto the run. Her vision tunneled. All she saw was the horse and nothing else. Then her legs were carrying her down the run at full speed, off the springboard, her body richoted into the air fully extended as she flipped and twisted two and a half times before landing blindly, but solidly on her feet. She lifted her arms into the air and threw her head back. She didn't want to open her eyes, afraid she had just dreamed it. The roar of the crowd assured her that it was no dream. She turned and saluted the judges before running off the podium, barely able to see where she was going as the tears welled in her eyes. She ran straight into Sasha's arms and he held her as one drop then another fell. She didn't need to see the score. She knew. She knew the same way everyone in the crowd and the man holding her tightly to his chest knew.

Sasha was murmuring words into her ears, his warm breathing soothing her, though she understood little of what he said. Finally a few words broke through the haze, words like proud and amazing and beautiful and perfect. His lips brushed against her temple and she shivered lightly at the contact. Then she heard it, the crowd was absolutely roaring. They both pulled back at once and looked for her score; a 16.4.

Payson felt a small shriek escape her lips, but she wasn't about to celebrate yet. She saw Mila Petrescu vault, a solid Yurchenko double, not a threat at all, but secured at least the bronze for the European champion. Payson could feel the tension in the arena increasing and for a moment, she almost felt sorry for Genghi Cho. She had to be perfect and Payson knew how that felt. She'd practically cried her eyes out over the idea of perfect the night before. That felt like a very long time ago now.

The tiny Chinese gymnast ran towards the horse, confidently, launching herself off the springboard, her body flying through the air with incredible speed. She landed on two feet and didn't budge, saluting the judges quickly and then walking calmly off the platform.

Payson smiled and looked up at Sasha. The moments ticked by. She felt a large, warm hand surround hers, squeezing gently and then linking their fingers together, just as they had that night when she'd arrived to drag him back to Colorado. She felt that same warmth, that energy that flowed between them all night surrounded her now. Then his hand tightened around hers again. He turned towards her, grasping her around the waist and pulling her into a hug, spinning them around with joy. The score was up and it was over. She wrapped her arms around Sasha's neck like she'd done that first night, after she emotionally finished her bar routine. They just held each other and Payson felt the damn break as the tears began to flow freely. She buried her face in his neck, allowing him to hold her close. He set her down on her feet, but she didn't release him, falling against his chest in joy and relief.

The odds had been as close to impossible as it got. By all rights she shouldn't even be at these World Championships and now here she was, the All-Around gold medalists, coming from behind in historic fashion and beating the best gymnast in the world, head-to-head in a showdown of epic proportions. She moved from the embraced and turned to where her teammates were sitting. They were going crazy. Austin and Nicky were standing on their seats leading the crowd in a chant of "Keeler, Keeler, Keeler!", Emily and Kaylie were dancing in the aisle and Lauren was screaming her head off. Her mother was sitting somewhere else entirely; she had no idea where, so she didn't even try to find her.

Suddenly, she was surrounded by cameras and other gymnasts, all wanting to ask a question or give their congratulations. It was a blur, from the podium where she stood proudly listening to the Star Spangled Banner to what seemed like hundreds of interviews that Payson felt like she barely took a breath between the moment she won and the moment she arrived back at the relative peace of her hotel room. Her mother and her teammates had long since gone to bed, but she was running on way too much adrenaline to fall asleep.

She sat in the center of her bed, her World Championship Gold Medal in her hand, studying it carefully. It was hopefully the first of many in that color. She weighed it in her hand, it was solid, a nice weight to it. It was a classic gold medal, round, attached to a dark blue ribbon to hold it around her neck. She sighed, not sure if it all really happened, but if it was a dream, she was more than willing to never wake up.

She was startled out of her thoughts by a knock at her door. She frowned, looking at the clock. Five minutes until two. Then she smiled, only one person would knock on her door this late and it was the one person she would want to do so.

"You did it," he said, when she opened the door. He stood there, a soft smile playing across his face.

"We did it," she corrected and stepped back to allow him room to enter.

He shook his head. "I'm not staying. I just wanted to…" he trailed off.

She tilted her head in confusion, "Sasha?"

He stepped forward, his arm moving around her waist, pulling her close. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, completing the embrace, pushing up onto her toes to allow their cheeks to brush as he bent towards her. "I am so proud of you. Tonight was the most incredible night of my coaching career. It surpassed everything and I owe it to you, Payson," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "Thank you," he said, his breath against her ear. He turned his head, allowing his lips to brush against her cheek, trailed softly to the corner of her mouth.

She felt a white hot spark of electricity flash through her entire body at the innocent, but intimate contact. "Good night, Payson," he said, his voice hoarse, as he moved back into the open doorway and into the hall, already a few steps down the hallway before she could answer.

"Good night, Sasha."

* * *

**A/N: **Well, this one took FOREVER to write and to write right, if that makes sense. ;-) A little more Payson/Sasha in this one, but emotions were obviously running high in this situation. I don't think it was too much. Please let me know what you think, this chapter was a struggle to say the least and it took me almost the entire weekend to get it right after mucho revising! Give a girl a little love!


	5. Belief

Sasha sighed as he sat back in his office chair. He leaned back, stretching his neck in each direction, not hearing the satisfying pop that would ease the tension. He moved forward, leaning his chin in the palm of his hand, pushing to the left, holding and then releasing as his neck cracked. He repeated the action in the other direction and groaned when the cracks resounded loudly in the office.

"Are you okay?" Summer asked as she entered the room. She breezed in, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed as usual, her clothes professional and tantalizingly demur in a way that had attracted him all those months ago. The crueler side of him had labeled her a tease, but mostly he'd seen her as a challenge and a beautiful one at that. On her left ring finger, the _new_ engagement ring she sported was perhaps larger than the first one, at least that's what he heard Kim saying when he inadvertently walked in on a girl talk session in the office a few weeks ago.

_"Summer, that's beautiful," Kim said, as she examined the ring closely. After Sasha's return to the gym, Steve Tanner had not only allowed his reinstatement, but also brought Kim back on a part time basis, wanting to appear magnanimous in the face of a complete coup. _

_Summer smiled, "I told him nothing extravagant, but you know Steve," she said, shrugging apologetically, though not looking sorry in the slightest. _

_Then Kim looked up and pressed her lips together as she met his eye. Summer, noticing her friend's distraction followed her gaze. The guilt written across her face was obvious. He would have rolled his eyes at the expression if it wouldn't have been unpardonably rude. She had no reason to feel guilty. He hadn't had designs on marrying her, at least not serious or immediate ones during their short time together, despite the deep feelings he'd developed. "Sasha," Kim said. "I thought you were off to Colorado Springs to meet with that new junior and her parents?" _

_He shook his head, "Not til later tonight. I have a meeting with them first thing tomorrow morning." The tension hung in the air for a few more moments before he put them both out of their misery. "Congratulations, Summer."_

_She smiled tightly back at him. "Thank you," she said._

_"Oh, look at the time, I've got to take Becca home. See you two later," Kim said, making a hasty exit, obviously uncomfortable. Summer opened her mouth as if to protest, but couldn't think of a reasonable excuse quickly enough. Kim was out the door and down the stairs before she could utter a syllable. _

_Sasha moved towards his desk, leaving Summer standing awkwardly at the center of the room. "When did he pop the question?" he asked, morbidly curious._

_"Last week," she said, not making eye contact. He raised his eyebrows; she'd been hiding it from him. Guilty? Ashamed? Embarrassed? All of the above?_

_"Let me guess, moonlight, a stroll down by the lake after dinner, a picnic blanket with a bottle of wine, where he declared himself a fool for every letting you go in the first place and asked you to marry him, with uh - that monstrosity." Summer gaped at him, "Close your mouth, love, you'll catch flies."_

_Her mouth snapped shut at his snide comment. "Actually we went to dinner at Le Privilege and he asked there," she told him, her expression still unreadable._

_Sasha laughed, "He proposed to you in the same place he proposed to you the last time?"_

_She glared at him. "He said he wanted to make up for the first time by doing it right the second time."_

_"Like a do-over? What is he, seven years old?" Sasha couldn't help it. He laughed again. "I'm sorry," he said as she responded with a withering stare. "Really, I hope you'll be very happy together." After all, it was what she wanted, a life with safe, reliable, unoriginal Steve Tanner, a man who shared her values, at least on the surface. _

_"We will," she said. " I can't wait to be his wife and Lauren's mother."_

_"I'm happy for you, Summer," he said, and he was though the wise ass he'd been all his life couldn't help creep through with a small smirk._

_"I can tell," she said, rolling her eyes at him. _

_He wiped the smirk off his face and tried to remain serious. "I am. I just - I'm glad you're getting what you want."_

_She narrowed her eyes at him, searching for any sign of sarcasm or mockery. "Thank you," she said. _

He closed his eyes, the pain in his back now more insistent with the pain in his neck taken care of. " I'm fine. I've just been sitting in this chair too long," he said, standing up and twisting his back, hearing another resounding crack.

"That can't be good for you," she said, wrinkling her nose.

He raised his eyebrows, "Maybe not, but if feels great," he said, and suddenly they weren't talking about his back anymore.

"Not everything in life is about feeling great," she said, not looking up from the papers she was organizing on her desk. Her reply was automatic, almost reherased, as if she'd been saving those words for the first person who'd given her the opportunity to say them. It annoyed Sasha to no end.

He shrugged, "Some things are and somethings are about pain and others about sacrifice, but the ultimate goal is pleasure, pleasure of the mind, body, soul." He trailed off, with a shrug.

"I thought you didn't believe in God. You believe people have souls?" she said, her brow furrowed in confusion.

He waved a hand above his head, "I don't believe in an omnipotent being that snapped his fingers and created the world. I don't believe in snakes and apples or commandments falling out of the sky or people rising from the dead. There is something separates us from the animals, call it what you like, soul, whatever. I believe in being a good person, Summer and doing the right thing if at all possible. I thought you knew that about me."

She suddenly looked ashamed of herself, "I did," she said quietly, "I do."

He sighed, "I know, that it's too late and that it wouldn't have worked out, but I still don't understand why you ran out on me that night."

Her eyes closed as if his words gave her actual pain. He hadn't expected them to have any effect at all. "That's why I ran out. You wouldn't understand, you'll never understand and because you don't, that's why I had to leave."

He grimaced. "I thought you'd say something like that." The truth was it had hurt him. He'd been making a monumental effort to understand her and her beliefs despite his own firmly held ideas, but she hadn't reciprocated. It wasn't that she hadn't understood him, it was that she understood and disregarded his own personal moral code as insufficient, as if he were somehow morally deficient because he did not believe _exactly_ what she believed.

"I can practically see the wheels in your head turning, Sasha," she said, a small grin playing across her lips. "What are you thinking?"

"You don't want to know," he mumbled. His eyes shot to hers, begging her not to ask him, because he knew what he would say would hurt her.

"I do," she said, her voice imploring him. Her interest seemed genuine.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, "Fine. I think you were full of shit," he said, sitting back, waiting for her outraged reaction.

She straightened her shoulders in affront as his accusation and glared at him piercingly. "Excuse me?"

"You told me you loved me and you were full of shit," he said. "You didn't love me. You wanted me and you liked me and you liked how you felt around me and you liked that I was making an effort. That wasn't love and you shouldn't have said those words. It wasn't easy for me to say them and I meant it at the time." She opened her mouth to interrupt him, but he cut her off. "Things change, Summer. I meant the words when I said them, but I don't feel that way now, so there's no need to say whatever it is you want to say to ease your conscience." Sasha was angry, he hadn't realized just how angry he was before the words began to flow from his mouth. It was perhaps more than a little hypocritical. He knew he'd been on the receiving end of words like that before, women who thought he'd felt more for them than he had. "I'm sorry," he began, wanting to take away some of the sting of his words. "I didn't mean to..." he trailed off, but she interrupted him.

"I realize that," she said quietly. "After Steve and I get married, I'm going to tell him that I don't want to work at the Rock anymore. He'll understand. It'll give me more time to work with the church."

He shook his head, "I didn't meant that. I know you like working here, I wouldn't -" he stopped, as he caught the look in her eye.

"No, it's not you," she said, but then sighed and shook her head in a manner he recognized as something she did when she was chastising herself for something, usually it had occurred after they kissed. He should have known then. "Actually it is you, Sasha. I know you don't feel that way about me anymore, but you were wrong earlier, when you said I was full of it. I wasn't. That's why I ran out and that's why I can't work with you, because you don't love me and I can't love you, but I do." Her eyes were pleading with him, but whatever it was she wanted from him, he couldn't give it to her, not anymore.

He let the information wash over him, months ago, the words would have thrilled him. He would have taken her into his arms and told her they would make it work, but now, they left him cold and a little uncomfortable. He stood and moved to the window looking out to the gym floor where only Payson was left training, as usual. He watched his world champion gymnast working on the trampoline strip, completing her most difficult tumbling pass over and over again. He didn't know what to say, so he let his silence speak for him.

Behind him he heard Summer sigh. "Good night, Sasha," she said. "Good luck tomorrow in Colorado Springs and with, well good luck with _everything_."

"Good night, Summer," he said, knowing she heard him as she left the office and walked down the stairs, stopping to say goodnight to Payson, who paused in her workout long enough to call out a good night before beginning her tumbling again.

She finished the tumbling pass, landing on one of the soft mats, allowing herself to bounce into the air after her final landing, to keep the impact from her back, knees and ankles. Then she looked up at his office, her eyes trailing from the door, then left towards the window he was standing at. Their eyes met and hers had a question in them. She mouthed something, but he couldn't read lips. He held his hands out in the universal sign for "I don't know what the hell you're saying." She moved off the mats and out of his field of vision, before appearing again in the doorway.

"Do you want to leave? I'm the last one again, so just let me know when you're ready to go and I'll clear out," she said, her hair in absolute disarray, falling out of the half bun - half ponytail concoction she'd imagined up, probably down and replaced haphazardly several times during the day, a few tendrils darkened from sweat, sticking to her forehead and neck. Her cheeks were flushed from the effort she was putting out in her training.

She wasn't wearing her leo since she'd come into the Rock just to do some conditioning, but had ended up working on her tumbling, just a mismatched tank-top and a pair of shorts she used to practice tumbling. Her bare toes curled in the carpet of his office floor. He had to suppress a smile at the picture she presented juxtaposed from the well-groomed woman who'd just fled, not a hair out of place, the picture of perfection. Summer was a woman who gave off the appearance of having it all put together, from her hair to her priorities when really she had no idea what she wanted. She was fickle and indecisive, despite her firmly held beliefs. Payson Keeler, the young woman who stood here in mismatched clothes, her hair a wild mess, looking like she'd just exerted herself for twelve straight hours, which she had, she knew _exactly_ what she wanted and fought for it tooth and nail, letting nothing and no one stand in her way.

He shook his head, "No, in fact I'll join you," he said, nodding towards the floor and a smile lit up her face.

They began walking down the steps, when suddenly he couldn't help himself, "Payson, do you believe in God?" he asked, the words tumbling from his lips before he could stop them.

She looked at him oddly, "I - I don't know," she said, obviously deciding to indulge her crazy coach. "I've never really given it a lot of thought to be honest. My family is Catholic and we celebrate Christmas, but that's not what you mean is it?" she asked, sitting down on one of the mats. He shook his head. "I guess I believe in _something_, but what it is, I don't know." Suddenly she smiled at him slyly, "Were you talking to Summer about this?" she asked.

"You caught me," he said, grinning back at her. "It just strikes me that some people can believe so much and let that belief effect every decision in their lives while others, like you and me I suppose we just live not thinking about it."

She shrugged, "I don't know, Sasha. We believe in something else that effects every decision we make, it might even effect our lives more than Summer's belief in God."

He stared at her. "We believe in gymnastics," he said.

"No, I don't think it's the sport itself," she said with a smile. "We believe in ourselves and each other. It's being an athlete, it's training from before sunrise to after sunset every night, and it's sitting on a mat talking to your coach about God. We believe in something more tangible than God, but its still belief."

Sasha stood and held his hand out to her, "Enough philosophy, let's go. You were getting lazy on those saltos from your third tumbling pass. I distinctly saw some cowboy legs, which is about the ugliest thing known to man for the judges to look at. Let's fix them before you go home tonight."

She took his hand, allowing him to pull her up from the mat, "See, it's not that different, we have a belief system in place, complete with a hierarchy and self-flagellation."

She paused, taking her hair down from the mess it had been and quickly pulling it up into a similar mess, this time at the top of her head. She looked up at him and smiled. "Let's get this done," she said, brushing past him, her fingers brushed the back of his hand as she moved away towards the end of the trampoline. Completely intentional, the contact made him smile. It was a touch quickly become familiar to him, something they had begun at the World Championships, just a brush of the fingers to acknowledge the other's presence.

He watched her focus on the long, narrow trampoline lane in front of her before taking a small running start and flipping across it, attempting to move her knees together as she launched into the double tuck salto, landing on the mat, but her feet sliding out from under here as she landed hard on her tail bone.

An involuntary groan came from her throat as she rolled over onto her stomach. "Crap, that hurt," she said, burying her head in her arms.

He walked over and hesitated, before shaking his head and kneeling down next to her. First he checked the small of her back, where the surgeon had made her incision. "It's fine," she mumbled. "It's, um, lower." She rolled over to her back, looking up at him. "Just a bruise."

"You're sure?" he asked, frowning down at her.

"Yeah," she said, moving up to her elbows, pushing some weight against the afflicted area. She let out a small groan. She sat up more fully resting her head on her bent knees. Sasha moved closer a hand on her shin, running his other hand down her back slowly and then pausing at the spot just below the small of her back, pressing lightly. She turned her head, looking at him. "It's just a bruise," she assured him again.

He explored the small area again, pushing the tank up to expose the skin there, lightly massaging with his index and middle fingers. "How's that feel?"

"It's a bruise, it hurts when you touch it," she said it, the sarcasm obvious in her tone.

"Scale of one to ten," he asked, looking at her in the eye.

"Two, three when you're poking me," she said. "It's fine."

Sasha smirked, but looked down at the smooth skin of her back, the two tiny scars just above her tailbone. His brushed his thumb over the scars lightly, gooseflesh appearing immediately as he felt a small shiver run through her body.

"Sorry, are you cold?" he asked, pulling the tank back down over her.

"No," she said, "not cold." Their eyes were locked together until he saw her gaze flick down to his lips, then back up again just as quickly.

He sighed, "Even after the surgery, God never entered your mind? You didn't consider it a miracle?"

Payson bit her lip and shrugged. "Maybe, I don't know."

He sat back, making sure to maintain eye contact with her, "I did. I've never prayed for anything in my life, Payson, but I prayed for you and I made a deal with Him. I knew it was my fault you were injured in the first place, so I made a deal, that if you got well, I'd coach you, bring you back to where you were before I showed up…" he trailed off.

"And that's why you left? You made a deal with something you don't believe in?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"Maybe, but mostly I made a deal with myself, Payson. I never apologized for it, did I, for leaving you?"

She shook her head, "Sasha, you don't…"

"I do," he said. "I'm sorry, Payson. I'm sorry for leaving you," he said, his hand covering hers squeezing lightly.

She looked down at their hands. He laced their fingers together, entranced by how much smaller her hand was than his.

"You're forgiven, on one condition," she said, quietly. He looked up, meeting her eyes.

"What's that?" he asked, knowing in this moment that he'd willingly surrender her anything.

"Never do it again."

* * *

**A/N: **So by now you've figured out this story doesn't exactly follow a serial storyline like NJYbA, but like I said, it will follow Payson and Sasha in important moments of their relationship from her comeback through the Olympics and beyond. And in case it wasn't obvious, I listened to _Break Even_ by The Script and _You Found Me_ by The Fray while writing this. I'm not a particularly religious person, so I really relate to where Sasha is coming from in his relationship with Summer and it's definitely something I wanted to explore. As always, hope you enjoyed it and please let me know what you think!


	6. Something

The party was tolerable. Parties in general normally weren't her scene, but this was a _gymnastics_ party and she'd still gotten a full day's worth of training in at the arena. It also helped that after the first day of competition; she was easily ahead of the field for the all-around and had qualified for all four event finals. She nursed the ginger ale obtained at the bar and glanced over the crowd. Everyone was mingling, some people actually dancing, but she'd thankfully been left to her own devices, just as she liked it. She saw Emily standing next to her mother, _chaperoning_, as Emily called it. Then Kaylie and Austin, standing off to the side, speaking in low tones. Who exactly they thought they were fooling was beyond her. Lauren and Carter, on again this week, were pressed against each other tightly on the dance floor. Payson laughed lightly to herself. Now, those two, they didn't care if they fooled anyone.

"What's funny?" a low voice asked from her left and she turned to see Nicky Russo, smiling at her in that charming way he has, a small, shy smile.

"Lauren and Carter," she said, nodding out towards the dance floor. He rolled his eyes and leaned back against the bar. "Enjoying yourself?" she asked ironically.

"You know me; I'm always up for a party." They both laughed and continued to study the activity swirling around them. "Nice work yesterday, Payson," he said, taking a sip of what looked like seltzer.

"You didn't do so badly yourself," she said, nudging his shoulder with hers lightly. Not much changed in the last year. Physical contact with Nicky Russo always made her stomach flip flop. His smile bloomed across his face, drawing a similar expression from her.

Then his smile faded a little. "Still in second though," he said, nodding towards Austin Tucker who looked like he hadn't a care in the world. Their eyes met, but he couldn't hold her gaze for long. "How do you do it, Payson?" he asked, though she wasn't sure exactly what he meant. She wrinkled her brow and he clarified, "How do you win? I mean it can't be as simple as just hitting your routines. There's something else."

She nodded, knowing what he meant. She knew what it felt like, coming in second. Her first Nationals at the senior level, coming in second to his current teammate, Kelly Parker had been the low point of her career up until her injury. In retrospect, it might even _still_ be the low point. Her injury was the reason she had transformed into the gymnast she was today. Without her broken back, she'd still be barreling along at a hundred miles an hour. Her injury set her back, but then catapulted her forward. She looked across the room and saw Sasha speaking with several NGO officials, most of whom made it their persona mission to kiss his ass as much as humanly possible, after the torture Ellen Beals inflicted upon him and his gymnasts over the last year. He looked up at just the right moment and caught her gaze. She smiled sympathetically and he rolled his eyes upward quickly before refocusing on the blathering man in front of him.

Nicky waved his hand in front of her face and she snapped out of it, "Earth to Keeler?" he asked, laughing. "Where'd you go?"

She shrugged, "Sorry, I just, I don't know if the answer is going to make sense."

"Try me," he asked, turning towards her fully, giving her his undivided attention. She found she rather liked having his focus entirely on her.

"It's not something you do or don't do," she said, memories of the feeling washing over her. "It's more a feeling or maybe a lack of feeling. The world just sort of slows down, in the big moments. My beam routine during Worlds, I swear the four inches felt like it could have been forty. The bars felt like an actual extension of my body. It was just a feeling I drew upon and I've been able to tap into since then. I don't know where it came from. It's not just confidence and I wish I could bottle it up and sell it, but it just sort of _happens_." She shrugged, and looked at him again, wishing she had the answer he was looking for.

He mumbled something to himself and she furrowed her brow, "Sorry?" she asked.

He looked up at her and there was pain evident across his face, but mixed with something else, the same emotion she remembered from that night in Los Angeles when he'd kissed her. "I said, some people are just champions," he shrugged. "You're a champion, Payson."

She sighed, knowing the words he left unspoken. She was a champion and he was not. He had the unlucky fortune of competing at the same time as Austin, who by the looks of things, would continue to dominate the sport. Training with Sasha turned into a huge advantage for Austin. He was tall, most said too tall to be an elite gymnast, but then Sasha was tall too and the critics had said the same things about him. Granted their bodies took more of a beating than the smaller guys, but when they nailed it, their routines were just that much better.

Payson competed similarly as well. She was 5'4" at the World Championships and currently measured in at 5'4" and a half inch, but thankfully it seemed she'd stopped growing. Nicky was only an inch or two at the most taller than her and while it made gymnastics _easier_, his frame didn't create the kind of awe inspiring effect the way Austin's did, the way Sasha's had. Payson had only been a small child during the 2000 Olympics, but she remembered watching Sasha's pommel horse routine. She remembered the crowd's reaction. No one ever cheered a pommel horse routine. They sometimes cringed or groaned at a particularly nasty looking fall, but Sasha's routine actually built up in momentum that he had the crowd roaring by the end. His legs flew through the air at frightening speed, full extension, balls to the wall action, unlike anyone else. He shouldn't have been able to complete elements like that, but he did and it was incredible. She remembered going to gymnastics later that week and wanting to work on the pommel horse, almost driven to tears when her instructor told her it was only for the boys.

"Payson?" Nicky's voice intruded on her thoughts again. "You're pretty far away tonight, aren't you?" he asked and she flushed, embarrassed by her inattention.

"Sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me. Just on edge I guess. Tomorrow is a big day."

"Do you want to dance? Maybe it'll distract you a little?" he asked and smiled at her in that way again, almost shy, but his natural confidence spilling over into it as well. Maybe he had some champion in him after all.

"Sure," she said and took the hand he offered her, leading her out onto the dance floor. She felt tiny sparks running up her arm from where their hands touched and she looked down at the floor as she knew a silly smile was plastered on her face.

He didn't pull her too close, but they were close enough to make it something more than just a dance. The hand at the small of her back, clenched lightly into the material of her dress, their joined hands resting lightly against his chest, she could feel the thrum of his heartbeat, strong and steady from beneath his shirt. They swayed to the light music playing the background. He leaned down half way through the song and his warm breath on her ear made her shiver lightly, "It's a little, much, don't you think?" he asked and then his eyes lifted to the couple next to them, Lauren and Carter. Lauren's arms were wrapped around Carter's torso tightly, her head resting on his chest, eyes closed.

"It's how they are," she said, shrugging. "Hot and cold."

"Kind of like their gymnastics." He was right, though in a condescending sort of way. Lauren and Carter's relationship ran hot and cold, but then, so did their performances in competition. It was the worst kept secret at the Rock that they were together and Sasha had simply started to ignore their ridiculous attempts to hide their relationship. "I learned the hard way," he'd said when Payson asked him about it; "I can't protect you girls from everything. You're all free to make your own decisions, good or bad."

She'd gone silent again and he must have noticed because he pulled her closer. The small bit of tension that she felt at his words melted away as she breathed in his scent, soap and a cool aftershave and the lingering smell of gym chalk. She felt her stomach flip flop again and sighed. Her eyes flickered closed for a moment and when she opened them, she met the ice blue stare of her coach. She recognized the look on his face; it was the same one that she'd seen when they were at Worlds, the passion and fire that made him a great competitor that he'd somehow transferred to her that day, that she'd felt burning within her ever since. Suddenly, every nerve ending in her body pulsated in reaction and her breath caught in her throat. She knew she would do anything he asked, if he would just keep looking at her like that. She exhaled and she felt Nicky's hand shift, the tips of his fingers stroking gently against the small of her back, the soft material brushing against one of her scars, making her shiver.

She lowered her eyes, breaking away from the captivating eye contact and pulling back from Nicky just slightly, but enough for him to notice. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, though she wasn't sure if that was convincing enough. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said and moved closer again. Her eyes flicked up again and saw Sasha was speaking to a man next to him, but his eyes darted to hers again for a moment and then away again, a slow smile spreading across his usually serious countenance.

The music ended and they left the floor, back towards the bar where Payson ordered herself another ginger ale. She looked at her watch and realized it was almost nine o'clock. Technically lights out wasn't until eleven tonight, since the competition was being held in prime time, but she wanted to get to bed early, especially since she'd drawn the short straw and was rooming with Lauren, who'd keep her up half the night discussing how wonderful or awful Carter was, if she wasn't asleep before she got back.

She took a final sip of her drink and placed it back down on the bar. "I think I'm going to call it a night," she said, and smiled apologetically at Nicky.

He nodded, "Yeah, me too. I can only stand these things for so long anyway," he said. "I'll walk with you."

They left the room together, she hoped inconspicuously, but she knew it was rare her entrance or exit from any event went unnoticed. They made their way towards the hotel elevators and as the door shut, it was suddenly very obvious that they were alone. An awkward tension swept over them, as they stood away from each other. Payson studied her feet, strapped into a pair of white sandals, her toe nails reflecting the overhead light in the clear nail polish. She looked up and saw Nicky, his eyes fixed on her and she quirked up the corners of her mouth in a quick smile. He returned it, his eyes leaving hers as the elevator settled on his floor.

"G'night, Payson," he said, before the doors opened.

She widened her smile, "Good night, Nick. Good luck tomorrow."

He stepped out as the door opened in front of him. "You too," he said, a shadow passing over his features.

The door to the elevator began to close, but just before it did, Nicky slipped back into the car. She looked up at him in shock, but he just shook his head, taking a step closer to her and then another, before cupping her cheek gently with his hand. He leaned down and her eyes slid closed as she felt his lips against hers. It began innocently enough, until curiosity got the best of her. She opened her mouth, just slightly, but it was enough to give him encouragement as he focused his attention first on her bottom lip and then the top, before his tongue pushed gently into her mouth, tentatively touching hers. They broke apart just as the elevator reached her floor. "Good night, Payson," he said and she practically moving away him, holding eye contact.

"Good night," she said, watching the elevator door close, briefly contemplating leaping back inside, but shaking her head at herself. She brought a hand up to her lips. That had been nice. She bit her lip, smiling as she walked down the hallway to her room. She looked up just as she reached her doorway and saw Sasha making his way back towards his room.

"Turning in?" he asked, stopping at his door, just across the hall from hers.

She nodded and smiled sleepily, "It was a long day and I wanted to get to bed before Lauren. She snores," she said, with a conspiratorial wink.

"Good night, Payson," he said, chuckling.

"Good night, Sasha," She turned away from him and slid her cardkey into the door, but before she moved inside a question bubbled up and spilled out of her mouth. "Sasha?" she said, turning back towards him just as he was stepping into his room.

He turned towards her, "Yeah?"

"What makes some athletes winners and others just, _not?_" The question spilled out and he turned towards her, eyebrows raised.

"Seriously?" he asked, letting his door shut and raising his eyebrows at her.

She nodded, pocketing her card and looking at him, "What's the difference between finishing first and second? It's not DOD, not really. It's something else, something that makes some people champions and other people…not," she said, looking at him, trying to gage if he understood what she was saying.

He nodded, leaning against his closed door, "You're right. It's not about degree of difficulty. It's the ability to slow everything down, when the world is speeding up for everyone else."

"Do you think it can be taught?" she asked, "or is it something innate, something that you have or don't have?"

"What do you think?" he shot back at her, sliding down the door and sitting on the carpeted floor. She followed suit, biting her lip.

"I don't think it can be taught, at least not consciously. I don't think it's something we're born with though. I think it's developed, over the years, as you compete, as you fail and succeed." She looked at him, wondering what was going through his mind as his stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I agree, but I do think there's something in some people," he said, looking pointedly at her, "something that makes them great that we can't explain."

"_Spiritually_?" she asked, a cheeky grin washing over her face, "I thought you didn't believe in things like that."

"Don't be a wise-ass," he admonished, lightly. "I'm talking about an inner strength, something that clicks in for them that other people can't access. It's what make someone into a champion. And it can't be taught, not really. Some people train all their lives, sacrifice, have just as much talent and ability as anyone else and still can't access the part of themselves that would allow them to take that final step."

"So the only thing someone who doesn't have that ability can do is hope they don't come up against someone who does?"

Sasha nodded, "I'd say so. Where is this coming from, Payson? You do realize you're one of those people. You're a champion. I've never seen a competitor quite like you before, not in a very long while anyway. Not since…" he trailed off, but she knew he was talking about himself.

"They were saying today, the reporters I spoke to, that I remind them of you," she said with a small smile, one he returned. Their eyes met across the hall and those sensations that ran through her body earlier were back, only tenfold now that he was this close, the hallway small enough that they could probably reach out and touch each other simply by extending their hands.

He chuckled and she raised her eyebrows, "What's so funny about that?"

"The idea of it. It's not a fair comparison. You are so much better than I ever was, Payson. It's not even close."

She rolled her eyes, "You have four Olympic gold medals, Sasha. I'm pretty honored to be compared to you."

His laugh turned into a smile, one she hadn't seen before. It was part cocky, part reserved. She wasn't sure how he pulled off the dichotomy in the expression, but she suddenly realized exactly how so many women had fallen for him. He was an attractive man, but the way his eyes were flashing combined with that smile, it was a deadly combination.

"I have three Olympic golds," he said, the grin widening. "I'll expect the missing one returned to me soon."

She let her eyes twinkle at him, "I don't know, I might have to keep yours and give you one of mine instead." She bit her lip at the way his eyes lit up in response.

"I think I might like that arrangement even more," he said. They fell silent and she knew it should be uncomfortable, the tension should be thick enough to cut through with a knife, but it wasn't, she just felt like right now there was nothing that could touch her, nothing that could break through into this little world they created for themselves. She felt safe and protected. And then something shifted again and her entire body tingled, acutely aware of his physical presence just inches away.

Then the spell was broken, "Are we having a hallway party?" Lauren Tanner's voice cut into the moment. "Payson? Sasha? What are you guys doing?"

"Talking about winning _and _losing," Payson said.

Lauren rolled her eyes as Sasha stood, holding out his hand to help her up. She took it and allowed him to pull her up. "Like you're not going to win tomorrow, Payson. False modesty is so not attractive. Can you open the door, I put my keycard against my phone. It won't work."

"Sure," Payson said, barely comprehending the words she was hearing, a sharp shock running from her finger tips, pressed lightly into the palm of Sasha's hand. She slipped it free and opened the door to her room.

"Night Sasha," Lauren called, pushing past Payson.

"Good night, Sasha," Payson said, following her in to the room.

"Good night, girls," she heard him say as the door shut behind him.

"Why did you leave the party?" Lauren asked, pulling her hair down from the complicated updo she'd spent almost an hour twisting it into earlier in the evening. "It was a blast. I saw you and Nicky dancing. Are you two a _thing_ again?"

Payson sighed and shook her head, "Nick and I were never a thing. We're just friends," she said automatically and honestly. Then she shook her head at herself, not believing she had forgotten what happened in the elevator, though she wasn't about to share that with Lauren. Nicky kissed her and there were butterflies and a fluttering in her stomach and the lovely sensations his mouth created against hers. Then she flexed her hand, her fingers still tingling pleasantly where Sasha's had closed over them as he helped her up off the floor.

Lauren snorted, a knowing smile appearing on her face and Payson shook herself out of the daze, "Sure, Pay, _just friends_. You're a terrible liar. It's all over your face. You're smitten."

Payson rolled her eyes, but she couldn't keep the small smile off her face.

* * *

**A/N: **So, fanficfan78 gave me the PussInBoots eyes and really, who can resist those? It was time to give this fic a little attention anyway since I stared at my beginning for Chapter 43 of NJY,bA for almost an hour without writing another word. ;-) Anyway, hope you enjoyed this one. We're slowly but surely getting there. Also, if you want to see the pommel horse routine I described earlier in the chapter, you can see it linked on my profile! It's another Sasha doing a routine I imagine our Sasha would have done. Please let me know what you think. When I say that your reviews drive the writing, I'm not exagerating. You guys have no idea how many times something you say inspires a scene or an entire chapter in a story, usually completely unplanned and sometimes changing the entire storyline! Feedback is always welcome, even negative!


	7. Finding

Not having ever hired an agent, Payson had no idea why her phone suddenly was buzzing out of control in her gym bag. She pulled into the Rock parking lot and grabbed her phone. The first was from Nicky, which made her smile, "Heard the great news. Congrats, Pay!" Confusing, but it was nice to hear from him all the same. They texted every once in a while and spoke on the phone even less, but she preferred it that way. They were both training for the Olympics and all that stuff could wait until after the gold medal was around her neck, even if every once in a while she thought about exactly how wonderful his lips felt against hers. Then another message, this one from Lauren, "OH MY GOD! This is amazing! Are you freaking out?" She shook her head, having no idea what she was supposed to be freaking out about. The last message was a voice mail from her mother, who she'd left at the house less than fifteen minutes ago, "Hey Pay, just give me a call when you get to the Rock. I've got some exciting news." She looked at the time stamp on the message, just minutes before.

She got out of the car and quickly dialed back home. "Hey Mom, what's up?" she asked, wandering into the open door of the Rock. She stayed in the main foyer, respectful of Sasha's 'no cell phones on the floor' rule.

"Payson, you're not going to believe who we got a call from this morning," her mother said on the other end.

"I'm guessing it's some kind of good news, since my friends are sending me congratulatory texts," she said, impatient to find out what it was.

"It looks like you were nominated for an ESPY award. You know ESPN's..."

She cut her mother off, "I know what the ESPY's are, Mom," she said. She saw Sasha setting up the bars for her through the glass doors, anticipating her arrival. She was always the first one to the Rock. "I've got to go. I'll see you when you get here."

She walked in and tossed her gym bag on the floor near the bars. "Morning," she said and smiled at Sasha as she stripped off her shirt and shorts, down to her leotard before beginning her stretches.

"Morning," Sasha said, hanging from the top bar, making sure it would take his weight before dropping down onto the mat. "I thought we'd start with a few bars sets today."

She nodded and smiled. If there was one thing she could count on, it was Sasha's complete ignorance or willful disregard for all things outside of training. He gave her no indication whether or not he knew of her nomination and she was utterly grateful for it. The peace would be short lived.

"Payson, you _have_ to go," Lauren Tanner said as they stretched out on the beam after lunch. The other gymnast stared at Payson aghast, completely horrified by her perfectly reasonable opinion. She'd made it clear to her teammates that she had absolutely no intention of taking two days off of training to fly to LA for an awards ceremony and they'd been trying to convince her otherwise ever since.

Payson rolled her eyes, "I don't have to do anything. I'm not one of those people. I don't do award shows or whatever. I'm a gymnast and the Olympics are only…"

"More than a year away, Pay," Kaylie chimed in. "You have to go. You're nominated for Come Back Athlete of the Year. Lance friggin' Armstrong won that award. Michael Jordan won it. You don't snub the ESPYs."

Payson looked to her last ally, the girl she knew who could be counted on to side with her on this one, but Emily was just biting her lip and nodding. Lauren jumped on Emily's unexpected support, "See, and you've got a great chance to win too. I put it out on Twitter and so did Nastia. Everyone is voting for you all the time."

Payson opened her mouth to protest again, "It's the ESPY's, Pay," Kaylie cut her off, her voice brooking no argument. "It's like being nominated for an Oscar. You have to go."

One by one, her teammates wandered away from the beam to begin their training on one of the other apparatuses, but Payson remained at the beam, trying to laser her focus onto the four inches, but she was distracted, her friend's pleading voices still echoing in her head. After two routines that had Tricia, their beam specialist coach nodding in approval, but had Payson frowning, she shook her head and stopped off the mat. "I need a minute," she said, wandering over to the water cooler.

She filled up one of the small paper cups and took a sip of the cold water, before filling it again and downing it all in one sip. Her eyes flitted around the gym watching everyone working hard or hardly working when she felt someone sidle up next to her. She turned just slightly and then looked up, Austin Tucker. "I've been sent on a mission," he said, his trademark smirk playing across his face. Payson rolled her eyes.

"The things you do for love," she muttered and looked over at Kaylie who was pretending not to look at them from where she waited to work on her bars set.

Austin snorted, "You said it." She'd never been overly charmed by Austin Tucker. He was nice and funny and completely hung up on Kaylie. She counted him as a good teammate, but not someone to model herself after. His dedication to their sport was excellent, though he hid it well. Usually, there were only three people left at the end of a long day of training, her, Sasha and Austin. "Anyway, I've been sent to tell you that this nomination is a very big deal and that you should go."

"Mission accomplished?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He shrugged, "All kidding aside, you should go to this thing. There will be some great people there, yours truly included and well, you're kind of a big deal yourself, Keeler." She laughed at him outright, but he pressed on, "You are, though. You came back from the _impossible_. Your comeback, it's epic and that's something that the sports world couldn't ignore. I mean its ESPN, Keeler, they don't pay attention to gymnastics, but you, they have to pay attention to you."

"They see me as a good story, some nice public relations, that's all. I'm not going to win and I don't see the point of going all the way to LA to walk a red carpet when I could be training."

"You get to get all dolled up and wear a pretty dress and get your picture taken," his voice died as she glared at him and then rolled her eyes, "Right, not your thing. You do clean up really nice though. I remember that party at the Pacific Rims. You looked great. You had that dress on, I remember."

She looked at him dubiously. "No, really," he said, earnestly. "It was pink and, I don't know, flowy and it kind of stood out because you're not really the girl I associate with pink. I remember because I remember thinking you had a great set of…" he trailed off holding his hands out directly in front of him in demonstration, but he caught himself moments later. Payson hadn't thought Austin Tucker was capable of blushing, but there it was. His cheeks were slightly flushed and suddenly he was avoiding eye contact like the plague. "Shoulders?" he finished lamely.

"Flattery will get you everywhere," she muttered taking Austin's comment for what it was at its root, a compliment and laughed.

She sighed and looked up to see Sasha frowning at her from the platform, "Alright, Tucker, that's enough. You can go back to Kaylie and tell her you did your best."

"You'll think about it?" he asked, hopefully. "I told her I'd get you to think about it."

She nodded, "I'll think about it." She tossed out her paper cup and took a deep breath, trying to wipe her mind of the silly distraction. She'd promised to think about it, but that didn't mean she had to think about it right now.

Her friends must have taken her promise to Austin as a cue to lay off, because they remained silent on the topic for the rest of the day. She didn't allow her thoughts to drift towards the issue until she saw Austin leaving for the night, raising a hand towards her and Sasha as he passed through the glass doors.

"You ready to call it a night?" Sasha asked, turning towards her. She pulled her hair out of the sweaty, matted ponytail and twisted it back again, higher on her head.

She shook her head, "One more time," she said. "I'll feel better about it if I nail it one more time." It was her first and most difficult tumbling pass. She was performing it consistently, but she had a tendency to take a small hop on her landing and she'd worked most of the early evening on sticking the landing. A stick would begin her routine with an exclamation point.

He nodded, moving off the floor, giving her room to work. She stood in the corner of the mat and took a deep breath, before lifting to her toes and running into the tumbling pass, launching into her double straight with a full twist. She felt her feet hit the floor and stood tall, pushing to her toes and saluting.

She heard Sasha's applause from the opposite end of the mat. Her eyes flickered open and she blew a wisp of hair that had fallen free out of her eyes. "Excellent, Payson."

She nodded, satisfied with the result and walked back towards him. It had been a long day of training and her body ached, but in a pleasant way, as if it were telling her it was done for the day, but would be ready to pick up tomorrow morning. He tossed her a towel and she wiped the sweat away from her face and off her arms. She grabbed the water bottle that sat at the edge of the floor and took a long draught from it.

"So, Comeback Athlete of the Year," he said and she rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Who told?" she asked, meeting his eye. He was smirking and she knew he was mocking her, if ever so gently.

"I can't reveal my sources," he said. She knew it had been her mother.

She shook her head and shrugged, "It doesn't matter. I'm not going anyway."

Sasha crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her, "You're not going?"

"Nope," she said and looked at him. She could practically see the wheels turning in his head and that was never a good sign. She appreciated Sasha's coaching skills. He was the reason why she was even still competing let alone at the top of her sport, but his crazy ideas usually were accompanied by that exact expression. "Sasha…" she trailed off, her tone just bordering on a whine.

"You should go," he said, finally. She opened her mouth to immediately protest. "You've been training non-stop. I don't want you to burn yourself out. When is it?"

"Next month, the sixteenth. That's only three weeks out from Nationals, Sasha. I want to be on top of my game. I can't afford to waste a weekend prancing around Los Angeles."

He laughed at her openly then, "You have never pranced in your life, Payson, but I do think it would be good for you. Take a weekend off, relax, do something other than train."

"I hate when you get like this," she mumbled under her breath, but he heard her.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his eyebrows practically disappearing into his hairline. She knew she may have crossed the line. Their eyes met and she cringed, but there was no taking it back.

"I hate when you get like this," she repeated herself, "I don't need to do this. It's not like before. I did what you asked; I married my beauty with my strength. Putting on a dress and walking a red carpet isn't going to do anything for my gymnastics, except maybe give my toes some blisters from the shoes I'll have to wear. Besides, I'm not going to win."

"You think you're not going to win so you don't want to go." He eyed her doubtfully and frowned in her direction. It was a weak defense at best and she knew he didn't believe it.

She sighed and shook her head. "It doesn't matter what the reason is. I don't want to go." He studied her carefully and she could feel his icy, blue gaze burning right into her soul. "I got hurt, I came back, it's not anything special."

He shook his head, "You broke your back, Payson and here you are. You're the World Champion, the favorite to win the National Championship and if I have anything to say about it, a year from now you'll be about ready to win Olympic gold. It's special."

She sighed. He didn't understand. "I thought you of all people would understand," she said. "I haven't accomplished what I want to yet. I don't want to be honored just for coming back. It's not enough." Their eyes met and she willed him to understand through their locked gazes.

He bit his lower lip and dropped his head, "They're not honoring you because they think it's over, Payson. They're honoring you because it was and still is an incredible accomplishment to be where you are right now."

She shook her head and something snapped, "I don't want to just be known as the girl who broke her back and came back, Sasha." It was something she buried deep, but suddenly it bubbled to the surface. She didn't want to be a one hit wonder like Kelly Parker or Kaylie. She wanted to be an all-time great, on the same path she'd been on before her injury. She viewed her time out as an obstacle, but ultimately one that made her into a better gymnast. She just didn't want the injury and not the results of it to be what defined her career. "I want more than that."

"Payson, you're the World Champion of your sport. You more than just came back." He shook his head, "I really think you should go. It'll give you a little perspective. We have goals beyond what we've achieved, but sometimes it's not a bad idea to look back and see where you've been. If you don't look back and reflect, you'll burn yourself out."

Payson rolled her eyes, "This isn't something you can make me do, Sasha. I don't want to go. They gave that award to Lance Armstrong for winning the Tour de France. I don't want an award until I win Olympic gold."

He smiled, "What about the Rocky?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that crossed her face. The night of the Rocky Awards had been her low point, but his faith in her, had been unshakeable. She'd begun the night an absolute mess, having no idea how to pull herself back from the brink, but he'd done it for her, taking her hand and gently guiding her to where she was today. "That was different," she said.

"How so?" he asked and she shrugged noncommittally. She couldn't very well say that it was different because it had been _him_ honoring her and not the anonymous horde that nominated her at ESPN.

It seemed he was still waiting for an answer however, as he looked at her with sharp eyes. The intensity of his gaze hadn't faded at all and it was beginning to make her skin burn under the scrutiny. "It just was. It was something I needed, I don't want or need an ESPY," she said.

"Bull shit," he said and her jaw dropped in shock. "Don't look so shocked. You once called me out and now I'm doing the same. Your excuse is weak at best. How is this any different than your teammates and coaches honoring you? Your story is inspirational, even if it's incomplete, Payson. You're behaving like a child."

"Excuse me?" She smiled sardonically, before she let the anger completely envelope her expression. "I'm behaving like a child? Fine, then I'll do what a child does." She turned on her heel, grabbing her gym bag from the floor and began to storm out of the Rock.

"Payson," he called after her. "Payson, don't go." She didn't want to stop, but there was something in his tone that caused her to hesitate. He stepped in front of her and their eyes met again. It was different this time. He wasn't digging into her soul or trying to manipulate her, he was apologizing. She opened her mouth intending to say something, but the words didn't come. She broke off eye contact and sighed in unspoken forgiveness.

"Why are you pushing this?" she asked, finally resigned to letting him say his piece.

He looked up at the ceiling, but then back down to her. "I don't want what happened to me to happen to you."

She furrowed her brow, "You don't want me to win four gold medals?"

He shook his head, "No, I want you to win as many gold medals as you can, Payson, but I want it to be different for you. I won my golds out of revenge and spite. Even under Nicolai's guidance, the only thing that really fueled me was getting back at my father and…" he trailed off.

"MJ?" she supplied for him. It was an unwritten Rock rule that you didn't speak about Sasha's well-publicized relationship and subsequent break up with MJ Martin, but suddenly Payson didn't care about rules, written or unwritten.

He looked up in surprise, but nodded, "MJ too. I wanted to prove them wrong. I want it to be different for you. I think going to the awards ceremony will help you with that. It will close the chapter on your injury. You came back, you won at Worlds and the nation honored that. Once you leave that event, it will be over. You'll have come back and then you can just continue on. It'll be about _you_ and what an incredibly gifted athlete you are, at least, for you it will be. You'll finally be able to move on."

Payson looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes again and for a moment she could barely catch her breath. He was speaking from the heart, that much was clear and his words touched her deeply. "Okay," she said softly.

"Okay?"

She nodded, "Okay, I'll go, but on one condition," she warned, being careful to mask her intentions.

"A condition? Another one?" he asked. She remembered the last condition she'd asked of him, here at the Rock, only a few feet away from where they now stood. He'd promised her that he'd never leave her. They'd come through so much together, even after her win at the World Championships, but she'd never fully trusted him again until that moment. "Name it," he said finally and she knew she had him.

She smiled, knowing she had won a small victory in her defeat, "You go with me."

* * *

**A/N: **I love this fic. I really do. NJYbA is a bear and my pride and joy, but this fic just writes itself sometimes. I sat down to write this chapter and couple hours later it was done. Anyway, please let me know what you think. I love writing these moments between them and I hope you guys enjoy them too. Also, the dress Austin talks about early in the chapter is linked in my profile.


	8. Closure

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Sasha grumbled as the stylist circled him for what seemed like the hundredth time. He was starting to feel like a piece of meat under the critical eye of the staff Ronnie Cruz hired to dress them for the event. It made him regret being a man of his word, but he'd promised Payson he'd do this and now he was stuck.

"Boulder's finest, Lenmar and Sons isn't going to cut it," the former pop star had said with a roll of her eyes, "and Payson, well she's come a long way, but this is the red carpet we're talking about, not a gymnastics gala. You two need professional help."

And so now they found themselves, in a large hotel room with an entire staff dedicated to dressing them. They both stood on small pedestals while the most obnoxious people Sasha had ever come into contact with, their noses stuck so far up in the air he wondered how they could see anything except the ceiling, circled them repeatedly, like lions eyeing their prey.

His suit fit well, simple, elegant; at least that's what the woman, Francine, had said as she tugged and tucked at the cloth before stepping back and nodding. He nervously tugged at the collar of his shirt and the cuffs of the jacket. "Stop fidgeting, this is Armani, you don't fidget in Armani," she said, clucking her tongue in disapproval.

He made eye contact with Payson who was currently clenching her teeth in a way that made him think she was moments from punching the young, effeminate man who had nixed every dress she'd tried on in the last hour.

"I don't know, maybe we should go less conservative, really show off some of those curves," he said, fluttering his hand in the air. There's something off about this one."

"That's what you said about the last five. This dress is fine," she managed to say, her eyes practically shooting laser beams into the stylists forehead.

"No," the man said, fluttering his fingers at her dismissively. "Go take it off. I'll find something else. Like I said, it's too _something_."

Sasha watched as a small muscle twitched in Payson's jaw. "You know what," she began in a tone Sasha recognized clearly, the frustration was boiling over, "you can take your _somethings_ and shove them up your…"

"Okay," he called out loudly, grabbing the attention of everyone in the room. "I think maybe we need a minute. Would you all mind?" His eyes darted towards the door meaningfully, but no one seemed to get the message. He sighed, "Get out, all of you." _That_ they seemed to understand, especially as he glared at them using the best intimidating face he possessed. The only foolish soul to remain was the man working with Payson. He sighed at the lack of good sense and simple self-preservation instincts , "Now!" he demanded and the man jumped, nearly knocking his own glasses off his face before he spun on his toe and raced out of the hotel room.

He heard the door click shut and they both sighed. "I'm never listening to Ronnie Cruz every again," Sasha muttered, looking at himself in the mirror. He honestly didn't see a difference between the suit hanging up in his trailer and the one he was currently wearing aside from the designer label attached to the inside of his jacket.

"Me neither," she said, stepping towards the edge of pedestal carefully. The dress she had on was form fitting in the extreme. Sasha had no idea how the stylist intended to find something less conservative than this one. "I can barely move." The heels she was wearing didn't help either. She got to the edge and bit her lip.

He laughed softly at her dilemma, "Would you like a little help?" he asked.

"Sure laugh," she said, her face serious, but laughter in her eyes. "You're not the one stuffed into this thing like a sausage."

He approached her and put his hands on her waist, lifting her down easily, making sure to keep her steady on the pointy heels that resembled torture devices more than shoes.

"It's a nice dress," he offered. And it was, objectively speaking she looked incredible in the silver silk adorned with stones that sparkled every time she moved, but that was the rub. She could barely move.

She twisted her arm around her back, but in vain. "Could you?" she asked, turning towards him, pulling her hair out of the way. It had been done already, falling in long, loose curls down her back.

"Could I what?" he asked, unsure what she wanted.

"Just unzip it at the top. There's no way I can get out of this dress on my own," she said, as if it were obvious. "I'm not wearing this dress to the show, Sasha and I really liked one I saw on that rack, so could you unzip me?"

"Oh, right, sure," he said. He stepped closer to her and saw she'd missed a curl. He lifted it with his finger and pulled it off to the side to join the rest of her hair. Their fingers brushed as he handed over possession of the wayward lock. It was then Sasha realized as a small snap of electricity bit at his fingertip just what this looked like, as they stood alone in a hotel suite, his hand hovering just above the smooth skin between her shoulder blades where the zipper began.

"Sasha?" she asked, turned towards him, looking over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Right, sorry," he said, shaking his head, clearing his thoughts. He held the zipper between his thumb and first finger and pulled gently, but it didn't budge. No, he thought, that would be too much to hope for. Sighing, he took some of the fabric between his fingers, the back of his hand brushing up against the smooth skin. The charge of electricity passing from her skin to his was still there as he tugged down the zipper just enough so that she would be able to reach it on her own.

"Thanks," she said, absently, moving over towards the rack of dresses just in front of them, the back of the dress now wide open, as the zipper slid further down as she walked away. He took in the full expanse of her back, the creamy skin broken up only by the thin strap of a nude colored bra. "I can breathe again." Her voice brought him back to Earth and he shook his head again. Payson was a beautiful girl, he'd always known that, but somehow it struck him differently in this moment, just as it had when she'd come to find him hiding away in his cabin.

"Which dress were you talking about?" he asked, as she pulled a hanger off the rack. She turned quickly and smiled at him, hiding the dress behind her back.

"Give a me a second and I'll show you," she said playfully, backing up behind the screen they'd set up for each of them to change behind. "This is entirely your fault you know."

"What's my fault?" he called back, the conversation distracting him from his previous line of thinking, which was just fine by him.

"You're the one who wanted me to go to this thing. We'd be back in Boulder training right now if I had my way."

He laughed at that. She was right, though at the time he hadn't imagined that he would be accompanying her to Los Angeles for the event. "So, let's see this dress."

She stepped out from behind the screen and he smiled. "What do you think?" she asked, twirling around. She smiled at him. She wasn't asking his opinion, not really. She knew she looked amazing; it was written all over her face.

"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" he said, releasing his breath, taking her in from head to toe.

"You like it?" she asked. Their eyes met and he let his expression do the talking for him. She blushed a little under his scrutiny. "Good, now just shoes and I'm done."

"Great, then we can get out of here and get this show on the road."

It turns out they needn't have been in such a rush. While the network had told them that the red carpet opened at noon and it was pushing two, the line of cars their limo was sitting in stretched around the block.

"These things are always like this," the driver assured them and Payson shrugged. He silently agreed. The later they got there, the less attention they'd have to endure on the red carpet itself. Maybe they would be able to sneak in and take their seats, then sneak out again.

The silence was comfortable as they sat and waited, slowly creeping along the crowded street. Sasha watched as Payson looked out the tinted windows at the limos that lined the street. He had no idea what was running through that head of hers. Her mind fascinated him sometimes. There were moments, usually in the gym, when they would be working together and everything simply clicked, they were in sync and normal communication ceased, eye contact or a small gesture would be enough to get the point across. He understood Payson Keeler, the gymnast. She was driven, focused, obsessive, easily the most dedicated and talented athlete he ever had the privilege to coach.

Then there were other times, more frequent when they were out of the gym, out of their comfort zone, when she was a virtual enigma. Outside the realm of gymnastics is where she became complex and more complicated than he ever imagined. He'd once had to drag her kicking and screaming to embrace her femininity to accept that she was beautiful and graceful and all the things any idiot with two eyes could see, but now it was as natural to her as breathing, though she had no idea. It could be easily mistaken as conceit, but she was truly oblivious to how lovely she was, and that quality was insanely attractive. He'd watched Nicky Russo fall victim to it at the Pacific Rim championships. The poor kid never stood a chance. He saw it at the Rock on the rare occasion she would leave early and emerge from the locker room in her street clothes, digging around for her keys or fiddling with her iPod, while she struck dumb the entire male population of the gym by simply walking past them in jeans and a tee shirt, her long hair hanging down past her shoulders, sometimes shiny and straight, sometimes a mess of golden curls, but always captivating.

Then there were those moments of vulnerability, when she opened up to him, like on that night she'd driven twenty hours to drag him back to the place he belonged. He was almost sure that the side she revealed to him that night was something only he and maybe her parents had ever seen glimpses of, but he doubted she let down her walls much around Kim and Mark anymore. He had become her rock, the steadying influence in her life, in the gym and out of it. There were a handful of moments afterwards, where the part of her terrified of not living up to her own expectations bubbled to the surface. He'd promised her the night before she won her World Championship that he would be strong for her, with her, the one person she could depend upon if she needed it.

He just had difficulty marrying that girl with the confident athlete or even the unknowingly lovely young woman that sat by his side in the limousine as they crawled at a snail's pace towards the theater. She was a puzzle to say the least, one he had made little headway in deciphering. If there was one thing he liked however, it was a challenge and the uncomfortable thought that perhaps it would be the challenge of his lifetime passed through his mind, though he quickly chastised himself and desperately wished for something else to focus on.

The radio played faintly in the background and he nodded his head along as the opening notes to a well loved song hummed through the speakers. His eyes were drawn towards motion. Payson's legs were crossed high at the knee towards him, and the toe of her high heeled foot began bouncing to the rhythm. He smiled as his eyes traveled up again and he saw her mouthing the first line of the song.

"You like the Kinks?" he asked, positively shocked.

Hers eyes moved from the activity on the street back towards him, one side of her mouth quirking up in a smile. "I do," she said, and then in a soft voice sang along, "La-la-la-la-la, Lola."

"You're just full of surprises, Payson Keeler," he said, shaking his head.

"Hmm," she hummed in agreement and she hummed along with the song. "This song always made me laugh when I was little. I had no idea what it was about, _really_, I just thought it was the silliest thing I'd ever heard. My grandparents were less than amused when I sang it very loudly at Christmas one year."

He laughed, "I bet it was adorable," he said, imagining a tiny Payson Keeler bouncing around a house in Minnesota singing about drag queens in front of what he imagined to be very conservative Midwestern relatives.

Then suddenly the car stopped, not in the way they'd been starting and stopping up the street, but in a final sort of way as the driver slammed into park.

"You ready for this?" he asked.

She turned to him and grimaced, "No," she said. Then the door was yanked open and they were waved out of the car by an event assistant wearing a large headset and several walkie-talkies hooked to his belt.

Sasha exited first and held his hand out for Payson who took it gratefully. He never realized just how difficult it might be to exit a limo in a dress and five inch heels until he saw his elite gymnast struggle with it. He took a firm grip on her hand and tugged gently, aiding her and then didn't release her hand, tucking it against his arm and leading her towards where the same event assistant was indicating with an extended arm, "Payson Keeler and guest," he heard the young man mutter into his head set.

They turned a corner and suddenly it was like nothing Sasha had seen before, it rivaled the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics. The noise was deafening and there were people _everywhere_. There were photographers everywhere, snapping pictures of the athletes, movie stars and musicians as they arrived at the event, calling out instructions to each. They caught sight of them and immediately it began calls that she looked great, questions about her back, about who he was, until one of them recognized him, and then they played a little rougher. One had the audacity to insinuate they were dating and that's when Sasha softly, but firmly put his hand on the small of Payson's back and led her away from the photographer's pool towards where another event assistant was waving them. Several reporters were interviewing, all holding ESPN microphones.

"Hang on, we want you two on our main camera," the assistant said, holding out a hand to stop their advance.

Sasha glanced down at Payson who looked up at him. So much for sneaking in and out with no one noticing, he thought as they were ushered towards a blonde female reporter, holding her earpiece into her ear firmly, probably receiving instructions from his producers. Sasha was pretty sure he was supposed to recognize her, but he couldn't place her name.

"Payson Keeler," the reporter said, with a smile, "Erin Andrews."

Payson smiled, "Nice to meet you," she said.

"No, I'm honored," Erin said and Sasha noticed her smile seemed genuine enough. "You're a real inspiration, absolutely incredible story. We should sit down before the Olympics or maybe afterwards."

Payson smiled sweetly, but Sasha saw the hesitation in her eyes, "Maybe," she said with a shrug.

Erin nodded, and her eyes unfocused for a moment as someone obviously began talking in her ear, "Okay, we're going to start in a second. Just a couple of questions, nothing scary," she said. "I'll ask you about what you're wearing, how you're feeling and you can introduce your guest." Sasha felt the reporter's eyes on him, moving from his head down to the floor and back again. His hand was still at the small of Payson's back and he felt her breath hitch as she held in her laughter.

"We're here with Payson Keeler, World Champion gymnast, which is an incredible accomplishment in itself, but when you take into account that less than a year ago, this young lady was lying in a hospital bed with a broken back, it just makes it all the more amazing. Payson, well first of all, you look great, who are you wearing tonight?"

He looked down and watched Payson plaster a competition smile on her face, "Thank you, Erin. Carolina Herrara and the shoes are Manolo Blahnik," she said casually, with a small laugh, extending a graceful leg so the camera man could get a good shot of the purple pumps. "Who are you wearing? That dress is stunning."

Sasha watched as she carried on this very girly, very Hollywood conversation with one of ESPN's reporter and was in awe. He would have never guessed she was capable of something like this. Just another puzzle piece that didn't seem to fit into his idea of who she was.

"And who is this?"

Their eyes met as she looked up at him with a smile, "This is my coach, Sasha Belov, four time Olympic gold medalist," she said, almost conspiratorially. "He's the person that stood by me when I was hurt and then when I came back he was there, every step of the way and believe me sometimes I fought him tooth and nail, but when this came up I knew that he should be here with me, win or lose, just like any other competition."

"Coach Belov, how proud are you of what Payson has accomplished?"

He nodded and smiled, "It's been an amazing run, getting from that hospital bed in Boston to here, and she's still got a lot ahead of her, but I am extremely proud of what she's accomplished thus far and will continue to accomplish."

"And what's next for you, Payson?"

"Well, Nationals are right around the corner, just three weeks from now. It's going to be a great competition. We've got so much talent in American gymnastics right now, so everyone should tune in and watch. And then World Championships again later this year and next year is the Olympics!" she said all of this and he could see she completely had the reporter eating out of her hand. "It's just going to be a great year and a half, but it's nice to take some time right now and be on this red carpet with all these amazing people."

Erin Andrews nodded, "Thanks so much, Payson," she said and the camera feed cut. "Great job, that was excellent. Good luck inside, the last time they checked you were leading the vote, but that hockey player who recovered from alcoholism was a close second."

They moved on as another guest was shuffled in behind them and approached the crowd of celebrities, rock stars, movie stars and athletes milling around the entrance.

"That was insane," she said.

Sasha nodded absently, still wondering where the media savvy, red carpet starlet had come from when he caught sight of a familiar head of brown hair just up ahead, "Austin," he called out and the defending Olympic and World champion turned around with a smile.

"There you guys are. Fashionably late?" he asked, his eyes flicking over Payson appreciatively. She was oblivious, to his gaze, her eyes wandering over the mass of people waiting to enter the auditorium.

Sasha cleared his throat meaningfully and Austin's eyes snapped up quickly enough, "Traffic was bloody awful," he said.

Payson finally looked up, "Terrible," she agreed.

Austin nodded, "You look great, Payson."

"Thanks," she said, her eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. "I think I might be the envy of every woman here tonight standing here with the two of you."

Sasha glanced around and saw she was right; there were at least ten women in their immediate area eyeing them curiously. All of them laughed together and Sasha thought that maybe this night wouldn't be so bad after all.

After the second hour of inanity, Sasha was regretting that the thought ever entered his mind. This was torture, plain and simple. The host was obnoxious, half the time the winners were blithering idiots and they still had another half hour until Payson's award would be presented.

"This is excruciating," Payson mumbled through clenched teeth, leaning towards him, as the host told yet another inappropriate joke. The crowd laughed on cue, but Sasha couldn't muster even a smile.

"You two are such drags," Austin said, with an eye roll.

Payson rolled her eyes right back, "This is way too long. It's like a four hour ego stroking fest."

Sasha silently agreed and Austin shrugged, not being able to argue, "Maybe, but the after party is awesome. You're coming to that, right? You have to, especially if you win."

"I'm not going to win, Austin."

She won. Of course she did. The story was just too much, even when she was competing against athletes from the major sports, the gymnast the broke her back and then recovered, rocketing to the top of her sport put her into another category all together compared to the other nominees. The look of utter surprise on her face was genuine and he smiled as she was suddenly flustered. He and Austin stood with her as the entire audience applauded and cheered. He brushed a kiss against her cheek, hugging her tightly and Austin did the same before she moved out of the row and up onto the stage. The award was presented by the previous year's winner, Kim Clijster's the tennis player who'd come back to win the US Open the year after she'd taken time off from her sport to have a baby. Though they'd never met before, Kim embraced Payson and gave her a kiss on each cheek before handing over the trophy.

Payson stepped to the microphone and looked out into the crowd that was now collectively on its feet, giving her the loudest ovation of the night. It may have been a night of ego stroking, but even this crowd couldn't help but be moved by her story. She seemed overwhelmed by it for a moment, but then her eyes found his and he smiled encouragingly.

"Thank you," she said to the crowd, who quieted after a moment to allow her to speak, "I know most people say this, but I really did not expect to win. Thank you to everyone who voted for me. I'm absolutely stunned. I obviously want to thank my family, Mom, Dad and Becca who are watching from home and my gym family, Kaylie, Emily and Lauren, Austin who's in the crowd tonight. I love you guys so much. But I have to give most of my thanks to my coach, Sasha Belov. After everyone had given up hope, all the doctors, my family and friends, everyone, including myself, Sasha still believed." Her eyes met his again as she spoke directly to him and not the crowd, "You found the doctor who could fix my back and once I was ready to train again, it was your belief, your strength that kept me going on days when I couldn't find that strength within myself. It wasn't easy and we have a long road ahead of us still, but it's thanks to you that I am where I am right now. Thank you."

They broke eye contact as the crowd roared in approval again. She walked off the stage and Sasha sat back in his seat, completely stunned. It was one thing to know she was grateful. It was another entirely to hear her voice it to the entire world.

"Wow," Austin said as the crowd quieted, the ceremony taking a brief break.

"Yeah," Sasha agreed.

"No wonder Nicky Russo hates you," the younger man mumbled. "Who the hell can compete with that?"

Sasha turned to him, "Nicky Russo hates me?" It seemed like a completely random comment, totally out of context.

Austin laughed, shaking his head, "He's ass over tea kettle for that girl, practically drools all over himself when he's around her."

Sasha nodded with a frown, "Yeah, that much I knew."

"Well, you heard what she just said, how does a guy compete with that?"

"I'm not competing with Nicky Russo for anything," Sasha said with a snort, looking at Austin like he was a little insane.

The younger man just smiled knowingly and shook his head, "Exactly. You don't have to compete, you've already got her."

Sasha shook his head and rolled his eyes, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"I just know what I see and what I see is a connection, doesn't matter if its romantic or platonic or psychic, it's a connection that Russo can't compete with and he knows that."

Seconds later, Payson came walking down the row, a little breathless, but still smiling. "That was incredible," she said, taking her seat between them again, completely oblivious to the oddly tense conversation that they'd just been engaged in.

"Congratulations, Payson," Austin said, kissing her on the cheek again. "Be right back, men's room."

Then they were alone. They sat in silence for a moment, "Thank you, for what you said," he said quietly, taking her hand in his and squeezing it.

She looked towards him and squeezed back. "I meant every word. Thank you," she said, her eyes shining at him, sparkling happily.

He couldn't find the appropriate words. There were words he wanted to use, but mostly those seemed inadequate so he lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a light kiss against the back of her hand. "You're welcome."

* * *

**A/N: **So, I have to dedicate this chapter to one of my awesome readers, Casmeriditemione. I was completely blocked about a quarter of the way through this chapter and she asked me about a scene in my other fic, NJY,bA, which took my mind off the block I had in this story. A couple of hours later I'd written a scene for NJY,bA and then this one just started to flow! If you want to see Payson's dress, you can see it linked on my profile. I'm trying to incorporate some of the actress that play's Payson the actual show in my style decisions and I think she's got a quirky sense of style so this dress reflects that. Please let me know what you think and as always, thanks for reading!


	9. Being

"And we're here with current National and defending World Champion, Payson Keeler," the reporter said as she turned away from the camera towards Payson. "How does it feel to be back at the World Championships, this time, your own country's National Champion and defending your title?"

Payson smiled sweetly at the reporter, "It feels great. Last year was such a rollercoaster, but this year, I feel like I'm at the top of my game. I'm so excited to have the opportunity to represent my country again."

"The team competition wrap up today. The United States qualified just behind China for the team finals. Any predictions?" the question was delivered cheekily, the reporter obviously not expecting her to actually answer.

Payson's eyes twinkled and the corner of her lip turned up in a small smile, "Yeah, we're going to win."

For a moment the reporter stood there stunned and Payson assumed the interview was over. She smiled and nodded and simply walked away towards where her teammates and coaches were standing.

"Interesting interview," Sasha said as she joined her teammates in line, waiting to enter the arena. "Nice prediction."

She shrugged, "I've got a good feeling." She knew it was a bold move, but she felt good about it. Today was three up, three count and she honestly felt that China's top three performers wouldn't be able to compete with what she and her American teammates planned to throw at them today.

"She's got a good feeling," Sasha said, rolling his eyes to the ceiling far above them and smirking to himself.

"My gut instinct is rarely wrong, Belov. Don't doubt me."

Only a few hours later, the American team was standing on the top of the gold medal platform, waving to the crowd, smiles from ear to ear. As they descended from the floor, after taking what felt like several thousand pictures, Payson caught the eye of her coach from a distance away. She felt a small shiver run through her at the expression on his face. He'd worn a similar expression all day, as they rotated through each event, hitting routine after routine, though now it was more predatory.

They crossed the distance between them, until suddenly they were standing just a foot or so apart. "I told you never to doubt me."

He laughed, "Oh, I didn't doubt you. It was just the ballsiest thing I've ever heard a gymnast say on camera, guaranteeing a gold medal. You're definitely one of a kind, Payson Keeler."

She smiled and thought maybe she'd be able to use this moment to her advantage, "Unique enough to skip out on the reception tonight?"

Sasha through his head back and laughed, "Nice try, but if I have to go, you have to go."

Time seemed to fly after that, they were shuffled from the floor to a press room where they proceeded to answer hundreds of questions, many having to do with her prediction, though she tried to make light of it, her teammates had grabbed hold of her confidence in them, talking about how it revved them up and prepared them to attack their routines and push ahead of the rest of the world in each rotation.

"We just won a gold medal, I don't understand why we have to go flounce around in dresses. We should be able to do what we want, we're World Champions," she complained to Emily as she smoothed down the front of her dress. She allowed Kaylie to pick it out before they left, though she'd insisted on no pink. Kaylie insisted that she'd looked stunning at prom and had found her a silver dress, intricately lined with sparkling rhinestones that shimmered each time she took a step. She bit her lip studying her reflection again, and then turned away, refusing to spend another moment worrying about how she looked.

"I'm pretty sure it's because we won that we have to do it," Emily said, adjusting her bangs, just so across her forehead. "It's called the Championship Reception, after all."

Payson rolled her eyes, "Having one after each final is a little much, don't you think? I mean can't they just do one at the very end?"

Emily snorted, nodding in approval at her reflection, "We're in Rio, Payson, they don't need an excuse to throw a party, but if they have one, they're going to do it."

Payson sighed and picked up her purse, slipping her hotel room key into the small clutch. "Well, I'm making an appearance and getting out of there as soon as I can."

"C'mon, Payson, loosen up a little. It might even be _fun_," Emily said with a sigh.

Payson looked back at her friend and shook her head, "Emily, it's a gymnastics reception. I know I'm not exactly Miss Party, but these things are the exact opposite of fun."

There was a knock at the door and she opened it, only to be almost trampled by Kelly, Lauren and Kaylie, decked out in their best and practically bursting with excitement.

"This is going to be so much fun!" Lauren squealed and looked very confused when, Emily and Payson looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

They entered the ballroom together, to a rousing ovation from the already gathered crowd of the world's gymnastics elite. It was handshakes and hugs, air kisses and a constant stream of gracious accepting praise.

Just as she moved away from the French contingent, who never failed to make everyone around them on edge, backhanded compliments flying in the air. She felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Nicky Russo, standing there, one hand in the pocket of his suit pants, that bashful smile playing across his mouth. "Nicky," she said, meeting his brown eyes and feeling a sense of relief wash over her.

"Payson," he said, his eyes leaving hers, looking her up and down quickly, "you look great."

"Thanks," she said, biting her lip. She hadn't really spoken to Nicky in a long time, beyond a few text messages. They'd taken separate flights to Rio and the men and women hadn't had much time to interact since they'd arrived, as most of their days were scheduled from the time they woke up to the time they fell back into bed.

"You were amazing today," he said, "absolutely incredible."

She smiled and nodded, suddenly disappointed that he wanted to talk about gymnastics, "Thanks, it was a team effort though," she said, lapsing into her standard answer, one she'd given over and over again since their win. "Everyone really stepped it up."

"I saw your interview, before the competition started. I couldn't believe you predicted a win."

She shrugged, "We were the best team. There wasn't any reason to think we weren't going to win." She sighed and looked away. Lauren and Kelly were flirting with several members of the Russian men's team. She spotted Kaylie and Austin standing off to the side, as usual more wrapped up in each other than anything else. Emily was out of her field of vision. There was no hope of rescue. She liked Nicky, she liked him a lot, but right now, the conversation seemed forced, like he was trying too hard and it was making her uncomfortable.

"Listen, do you want to get out of here? I know these things aren't really you're thing and you know I can't stand them."

"I probably shouldn't," she said, not sure why she was hesitating. She'd been looking for an excuse to leave since she arrived. "Sasha would be angry."

Nicky looked around, "Sasha won't notice," he insisted. "I'm not even sure if he's still here."

Payson smiled tightly and nodded her head, "Okay, lead on, Macduff," she said. Nicky gave her a confused glanced and she sighed. "Let's go."

He took her hand and she allowed herself to be pulled through the crowd, out the ballroom door and into a small alcove. She turned look behind them, to make sure no one saw their escape when she felt Nicky's hand lightly cup her cheek, softly drawing her attention back to him. When she faced him again, he was close, so close she could feel his breath against her lips. Then he was kissing her, slowly, tentatively at first, as if asking permission. It took her by surprise at first, as his hand crept from her cheek to bury itself in her hair. Finally, she responded, flicking her tongue against his lip lightly as his other hand grasped her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies pressing together. Her arms wound around his neck, as they breathed into each other, their open mouths exploring slowly, until finally they broke away. Nicky's forehead pressed lightly against hers.

"Wow," she said, trying to catch her breath. She felt lightheaded and wonderful as a smile blossomed over her face. She really liked kissing Nicky Russo.

"You were so incredible out there today, Payson," he said. "You're going to win the all-around gold again, you know that right?"

She pulled back a little and furrowed her brow. "You want to talk about gymnastics? Now?"

He looked at her, confused, before he smiled at her as if she were a small child who said something endearingly silly, "What else would we talk about?" He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear affectionately and he leaned in again, but she pulled back.

"I better get back," she said, biting her lip, putting a hand on his chest, keeping him away. Suddenly, the thought of kissing him wasn't as thrilling as it had been moments before.

"Back? But we were…" he trailed off.

She stepped away and smiled, though she knew he didn't understand why, "Good night, Nicky."

She walked down the hallway confidently, knowing he was watching her walk away. Her heels were silent against the carpeted floor of the hallway, turning into a steady click-clack as she entered the ballroom. She hovered at the entrance for a moment, before she shook her head. She had no intention of going back in that room.

She stepped backwards slowly, without anyone noticing her exit until finally, she escaped, sneaking past a man in a catering jacket, who winked at her as she pressed her finger to his lips, the universal sign of, "Please don't rat me out, I need a minute of sanity."

She snuck back into a quiet hallway, and sighed in relief at the sudden silence that enveloped her. Leaning back against the wall, she closed her eyes for a moment, hoping the blood would stop pounding in her ears. What was wrong with her? Nicky Russo was everything she'd always wanted to find in a boy, attractive and sweet. He understood her, understood her dream, so what was the problem? Was she just a freak of nature? She looked across the hall at a mirror that hung from the wall. It was intricately designed, twisted chrome and blue stones lined the large reflective surface and she stared at her reflection. Blonde hair, darker than it had been when she was little, more gold in it now than straw, blue eyes, although in this light they looked smoky grey, like the color of her dress. She turned and twisted and studied her reflection carefully. She looked normal enough on the outside, but she knew something was different, something made her different from most everybody else.

She was jerked from her self-absorbed reverie by loud voices approaching from the direction of the ballroom, shouting in what sounded like Romanian. She bit her lip as she realized she knew one of those voices well, Sasha and if she had to lay money on it, his father, Dmitri. The elder Belov was at the World Championships as an analyst for Romanian television.

They came around the corner, not seeing her as they rounded on each other again, their words flowing over one another's, until Sasha finally stopped and shook his head, looking down at the floor. Dmitri threw his hands into the air and marched past her, grumbling to himself, under his breath in his native tongue.

Payson didn't understand a word of it, but as she turned towards Sasha who was watching his father walk away from him, she got the gist of whatever had been said. She'd once thought he'd been exaggerating when he told her his father would never forgive him for winning his gold medals for England and not Romania. Apparently not.

She took a step towards him and her movements alerted him to her presence. "Payson," he said, running his hand through his hair, making a wild mess of it.

"Hi," she said, biting her lip. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Nicky Russo walking back into the party, shoulders slightly slumped, but she quickly refocused her attention. "You okay?" she asked.

He took a deep breath and rolled his eyes, "I guess I should have expected it. He's as unreasonable as ever."

"I thought things were better between you, after he helped out at World trials last year," she offered.

He shook his head, "They were for a little while, but it all comes back to the same thing." His eyes finally snapped into focus and he looked down at her, "Sorry, you don't need to worry about this. You should be inside celebrating."

She quirked an eyebrow at him and he laughed. "Right, sorry. Well, you look beautiful if it's any consolation. Your dress reminds me of that one you almost wore to the ESPYs," he said, smiling down at her.

"You mean the one I couldn't breathe in, let alone move?" she asked, laughing lightly.

"You almost killed that snooty stylist," he said. "If I hadn't kicked them all out…" he trailed off.

She smiled, "He was about to get a piece of my mind," she admitted. "You were lucky, they dressed you up in that suit, it looked great and that was that. I tried on seven gorgeous dresses, oxygen levels notwithstanding and I was told I didn't look right in any of them. I felt like a freak."

He laughed at her, but then she saw his expression shift as he looked at her for a moment and then at the mirror on the wall opposite them. "Payson, what are you doing out here, really?"

She sighed and leaned back against the wall. She focused on her reflection again and met his eyes in the mirror. "I think there might be something wrong with me," she said, softly.

He shook his head, "We've been through this already, haven't we?"

She smiled at him, in the mirror, "It doesn't have anything to do with gymnastics, Sasha. I'm just not normal, there's something _different_ about me. Everyone else is able to go enjoy that party. Everyone else can…" she stopped. He was her coach. This part of her life wasn' t any of his business. He probably didn't want to know, anyway. "Forget it." She began to walk away, but he stopped her.

"Payson," he said, his hand catching her arm as she brushed past him. "Tell me." It was a simple command and if there was one thing Payson was good at, it was following her coach's instructions.

"He kissed me, and it was perfectly lovely and," she pressed her lips together trying to remember what it felt like before she'd walked away, "who walks from a perfectly nice guy because he wants to talk about gymnastics, which is one of the things I really liked about him in the first place. I mean what's wrong with me?"

She looked up and saw Sasha staring back at her, wide eyed, looking like he was about to bolt. She huffed and rolled her eyes, "You asked," she accused and that seemed to snap him out of it.

Shaking his head, he smiled ironically, "I did," he said. "I assume we're talking about Nicky Russo?"

Payson frowned. She thought she'd been pretty subtle. "How did you? Did I?"

Sasha shook his head, "The boy practically trips over himself every time you walk into the room, Payson. It wasn't tough to figure out."

She shrugged and sighed. "It doesn't matter. Forget I ever said anything," she said, looking down at the carpet, catching sight of her toes peeking out of the strappy sandals, rhinestones sparkling back up at her.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Payson," he said and the words were oddly familiar. "If you don't want to be with someone, then you don't have to be, whatever the reasons."

She shook her head, "That's just it. There aren't any reasons. I can't come up with a single one."

"Then why did you walk away? I know you, Payson. You don't do anything without a reason." She looked up at him and met his eye. "He didn't…" he trailed off and swallowed, "he didn't do anything you were uncomfortable with, did he?" The words flew from his mouth before Payson could interrupt.

She shook her head, "No, no, nothing like that. It just didn't feel right," she said and crossed her arms around her middle. "I don't even understand it, I don't know why I expect you to."

He shrugged, "Sometimes when we have a problem, it's easier for someone on the outside to understand it, because we're in the middle of it and can't see the whole picture."

She raised her eyebrows at him, "And you can?" she asked.

He nodded, leaning against the wall next to her. They both looked up and their eyes met again in the mirror. "You said you walked away because he wanted to talk about gymnastics and that was one of things that you liked about him in the first place?"

She nodded, wanting to break the stare, but finding she couldn't. His eyes were like magnets, drawing her into them, practically casting a spell over her. "Yeah."

"Well, what were the other things?"

She furrowed her brow, "I don't understand."

"If you tell anyone I said this, I'll deny it and they wouldn't believe you anyway," he said and she nodded. "There is more to life than gymnastics, Payson. And in relationships having one big thing in common sometimes isn't enough and your instincts were telling you that, even if you didn't know it yourself." His eyes softened as he continued, "No one wants to be with their doppelganger. It would be horribly boring and you are the opposite of boring and dull, Payson. You're full of fire and passion and the last thing you need is to be held back."

She swallowed roughly at the picture he painted of her. It was so different from the way she saw herself, but Sasha had never lied to her. He wasn't the type to gloss over the facts or save her feelings. He must mean every word, she thought, as their gaze locked again, the white-hot cord of energy that usually flowed between them during competition and sometimes intense training sessions was suddenly burning through their reflections' eyes. "Sasha," she breathed and they turned to each other, when suddenly the pounding of footsteps and someone yelling broke into the little sanctuary they'd found in the hallway.

"Sr. Belov?" It was a man from hotel security. "Sr. Belov, você tem que vir comigo. Seu pai, o Dmitri Belov, perdeu a consciência. Chamamos uma ambulância. Você vai comigo."

Payson didn't understand much Portugese, but she heard his father's name and ambulância and made the connection. Something had happened to Dmitri Belov and they wanted Sasha to go with him to the hospital. "Your dad?" she asked, but it seemed he was frozen. The security guard looked to her and said something else, but she shrugged, not understandin. "Sasha," she said, trying to break him out of his daze, but he remained unmoved. Finally, she shook her head and looked at the guard, "Take us?" she asked and nodded her head in the direction he came from. The guard understood well enough and began leading them out of the hallway. "Sasha, come on, we've got to go." She touched his hand and on contact, his fingers wrapped around hers almost immediately. Even in this moment, the electricity was there, as his hand completely engulfed hers.

The ambulance had already left by the time they arrived, but the hotel arranged for a car to take them to the hospital. Their hand remained locked together as they rode in silence.

They arrived at the hospital, where thankfully one of the nurses understood English and was able to direct them to the proper waiting area.

She released his hand only to send a quick text message to Emily to let her know where they were. When she took it up again, his grip was tighter than before. They sat together, their joined hands resting on his knee, her head on his shoulder.

"It was my fault," he rasped suddenly. "I got him riled and it must have gotten his blood pressure up."

She shook her head. "Sasha," she said, but he fell silent again. She knew she couldn't say anything to make him feel better. She squeezed his hand, as he leaned his head back against the wall. She placed her free hand over the tightly clasped hands on his knee and stroked lightly, hoping it would at least relax him a little bit.

Minutes ticked by and turned into an hour and then two when finally a doctor stepped through the doors. "Mr. Belov?" he called in a heavy accent.

They stood together immediately moving towards the doctor, who motioned them both to follow him. They moved into a relatively deserted hallway and the doctor looked grim.

"I am sorry, my English is not so good, but I must deliver the news. Your father, he has left us. He had, how you say, a heart attack. Meus pêsames," he said.

Payson felt Sasha's grip on her hand tighten and then release. He released a shaky breath. "Obridago," he managed to rasp out, staring straight ahead, eyes completely unfocused.

The doctor looked at the both of them and seemed to realize that Payson was probably the better person to speak to at that moment. "The American Embassy, we have called them. They will send someone to help."

Payson smiled tightly at the doctor and nodded, "Thank you," she said, taking Sasha's hand again. His grip was like steel. "We'll go wait for him," she said and the doctor nodded in understanding before walking away.

"Wait," Sasha called to the doctor, who turned. "I want to see him. Please," he asked and the doctor sighed before nodding and motioning for them to follow him.

He led them down a brightly lit hallway. Payson hated hospitals. They reminded her of her injury and the only thing that was keeping her from melting down was the vice like grip Sasha had on her hand. She realized that it was possible she was the only thing holding him together at this point. She had to be strong for him.

Dmitri was in a room by himself, covered in a sheet. The doctor sighed and lowered the sheet just enough for them to see his face.

Sasha released her hand then and stepped forward. She watched as he placed his hand on his father's forehead. "Îmi pare rău, tată," he said and with a shaky breath, he stepped back again. "Okay."

He turned and began to leave the room. She followed him quickly and as he reached the door he seemed to remember her. He stopped and took her hand in his again, entwining their fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "The doctor," he began, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He took another steadying breath, "the doctor said something about the American embassy?"

Payson nodded, "They're sending a representative to help with anything you need. I'm going to call Marty," she said. Marty was one of the American coaches with them at the World Championships and the only adult she trusted with this information right now. Sasha nodded and it seemed he agreed with her assessment.

They moved back down the hallway, back towards the waiting room, but just before they went through the doors. Sasha stopped and looked down at their joined hands. "Payson," he said, looking back up into her eyes. "If I forget to say so later, thank you. You were, you were amazing, thank you."

She huffed lightly and shook her head. She pulled at his hand and he released his grip as she moved her arms around his neck, embracing him tightly. He stood stiffly for a moment before she felt his entire body relax into hers. His hands rested gently across her back, "You're welcome," she said and then swallowed roughly. "And I'm so sorry," she murmured against his ear.

His only response was to hold her closer.

* * *

**A/N:** Well this fic is about significant moments in their lives that they share together, good or bad and this certainly qualifies. Poor Sasha. It happened so fast and it's so sad that's how they left things. Obviously these chapters always come in pairs, so we'll be seeing these events (the aftermath) actually, from Sasha's point of view soon. Please let me know what you think. Also, I'm an idiot and forgot that they speak Portugese in Brazil, so I changed it. This is what I get for writing at one in the morning.

Translation:

Îmi pare rău, tată – I'm sorry, Dad.


	10. Different

Dmitri Belov had obviously thought himself impervious to the reality of life: eventually it comes to an end. There were no plans, no will, nothing to point Sasha in the direction of his father's last wishes. He was the only surviving member of their family and thus, he'd inherited everything. Dmitri hadn't been a rich man, but there'd been some money and two properties, one in Romania, the other in northern California, where Sasha contacted Dmitri the year before, asking him to be there for his girls at World trials.

Sasha let out a slow breath, staring across the table where the urn containing his father's ashes sat. It was a beautiful night in Boulder, the stars twinkling above him, a soft breeze blowing the early autumn air around him. The urn was simple, a dark blue color, marbleized and reflective. The lights hung from his trailer illuminated the object. He frowned at it and took another sip of his beer.

He'd been cremated in Brazil. Sasha wasn't sure how it happened, but the official who'd helped him from the American embassy asked what was to be done with the body and without hesitation, he'd asked for cremation. It was instinct. He had no idea if it was what his father would have wanted. They'd barely spoken for ten years and their last words had been in anger.

The remainder of the competition was a blur. He remembered countless words of sympathy and sorrow expressed by the entire world of gymnastics, though he couldn't remember exactly who'd approached him. It seemed odd to him. It didn't make sense. These people knew his father, better and longer than he had. Some of them even liked Dmitri Belov. Sasha could make no such claim and yet here he was, sitting across from the urn holding his father's ashes with absolutely no bloody idea what to do with them.

Another sip of his beer and he sighed. He should just dump the damn things and be done with it. Maybe down by the lake. Dmitri loved to fish and he probably would have loved that lake if he'd lived in Boulder. _He'd want Romania. _The thought entered his head and suddenly had an iron grip on his conscience. Dmitri was a proud Romanian, his patriotism running so deep he'd stopped talking to his son after what he'd felt was a personal betrayal and a practical act of treason. Sasha rolled his eyes now, thinking of the utter stupidity of it all. Single minded and stubborn, those were traits they shared. Sasha knew that. He knew he was like his father in many ways.

He shook his head at himself. He wasn't like Dmitri, not really. He sighed, taking another sip of the beer, only to find the bottle was empty. Then suddenly his vision blurred as bright headlights pulled into the Rock parking lot. He squinted and put a hand up to shield his eyes, briefly, trying to take in the car. He felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards as he saw a familiar blonde head behind the wheel. It wasn't in amusement or pleasure, simply knowing that he should have expected this visit, but hadn't. Her expensive heels clicked across the blacktop of the parking lot before stopping just in front of him, her finely manicured hands resting on her hips.

He looked up, meeting her eye, "What do you want, Summer?" he asked, breaking away from her gaze almost immediately as she flinched almost imperceptibly at his words.

She opened her mouth to retort, but thought better of it and with a small roll of her eyes, said, "I wanted to see if you were alright. I was sorry to hear about your father."

"Thanks," he said shortly. He had no idea why she was here, so finally he looked her in the eye again, "So, what are you doing here?" he asked, bluntly. The beer he just finished hadn't been his first, more like his fifth and they'd loosened his tongue. Not a problem while he was alone, but even his alcohol infused brain knew that this conversation could prove to be _interesting_ to say the least.

"Like I said, I wanted to give you my condolences," she began, taking a few steps closer.

He looked at her incredulously. Even she couldn't believe the bullshit she was spouting. "At ten o'clock? Weren't you here when the bus came back this afternoon? Now's a better time than then?" he frowned, wondering if he'd just made sense.

She pursed her lips. He knew that look. Disapproval mixed with a sense that he'd stumbled upon a truth she wasn't willing to acknowledge, like back in the days when she was fighting her attraction to him. "I wanted to…" she started ,but shook her head before beginning again, "I know you don't believe in God, Sasha, but I wanted to let you know that your father, he's in a better place now, death is very much a part of life and he's looking down on you right now."

Buzzed and now annoyed Sasha rolled his eyes dramatically. "You obviously didn't know my father very well. My Dad's religion was gymnastics and he'd anointed himself a god in his own mind a long time ago. You would have had a better chance of converting me than him, if only just slightly. Save your sermon for someone willing to listen." His words hurt her and he knew it, but he didn't regret them. His eyes traveled from her eyes down her body, noticing the neckline of her dress was lower than usual and then he saw her left hand and his eyebrows shot up. The ring, the monstrosity of an engagement ring wasn't there.

"I was only trying to…" she began, but he cut her off.

"Trying to what? You didn't know my father and I wouldn't exactly call us friends, so why did you come down here?" He raised his eyebrows expecting an answer, though none seemed forthcoming.

She took a few steps closer, hovering over him now. Her hand landed lightly on his shoulder. The heat from her palm surged right through the thin shirt her wore and he shivered at the contact. He stood quickly, overturning his chair, invading her personal space, though she didn't retreat. . Her hand slipped from his shoulder down over his chest lightly as he moved closer. The same hand that was missing her obnoxiously large engagement ring, the ring that linked her to Steve Tanner, the man she left him for. "Why did you come here, Summer?" he asked again, keeping the harsh bite out of his tone. Sasha leaned down, their eyes locked, though hers fluttered close at his proximity, "Where did you put it?" he whispered against her lips. "Did you take it off before you came here or in the car?"

Summer's eyes flew open and she immediately understood his meaning. She took a step back, twisting her hands together nervously. "It doesn't…"

He cut her off, stepping back. "Put your ring back on and go home. This isn't going to happen. You made your choice."

"I don't love him," she said, her voice confident as she said it. "I love you."

He snorted, unable to help himself. "I don't love you. Not anymore." He saw the pain flash across her face before it was replaced by anger.

"You're drunk," she accused, taking in the five bottles of Guinness on the table, lined up neatly in front of him.

"Buzzed," he said, agreeing completely, "but not enough to let you do this to yourself or to me. Go home, Summer and stay the hell away from me." He was suddenly very tired. His anger faded and he just wanted her gone, away from him.

And then she was gone, walking away from him back towards her car, pealing out of the parking lot at a speed he'd never seen her drive before. He strode steadily, despite his current condition to the door of his trailer. A few steps later he fell face first into the bed and was out cold before his head hit the pillow.

He jolted into consciousness at the sound of glass crashing into something metal. His head spun as his eyes flashed open, trying to take in something about his surroundings. He caught a flash of blonde hair. He groaned, burying his face back into the warm surface of his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut. "I thought I told you to stay the hell away from me," he spat out.

"What?" a voice asked, shakily, a voice he hadn't expected.

"Payson?" he rasped, opening his eyes a crack. He winced, the light shining through the windows still painful to his dry, crusty eyes. He sat up slowly, praying the room wouldn't spin. It didn't. "What are you doing here?" he asked, rubbing a hand across his tired face.

"It's Monday morning, Sasha. Time to train," she said. "I got here and I saw the beer bottles sitting on the table and I thought maybe you wouldn't want everyone to see them. The door was open so I just put them in the trash. I, uh, I brought your dad inside too," she said, motioning to the urn, now sitting on the counter.

He nodded, "Thanks," he muttered, not able to muster more than that, despite the fact that he actually was very grateful.

"No problem," she said. "Who did you think I was?" He looked up at her sharply and her eyes widened. "Sorry, none of my business." She bit her lip, looking uncomfortable.

His eyes softened at her reaction, "I thought you were Summer."

"Oh," she said, before a sort of comprehension dawned, "Oh." She looked deflated and was that disappointment he saw in her eyes. "Sasha, she's engaged to Lauren's dad."

He sat up quickly and this time the world did spin a little, but he held out a hand to stop her, "It's not like that." He wasn't sure why he felt the need to explain himself.

She shook her head. "It's none of my business either way," she said. "Look, I'll just take your keys and open the Rock. You get some more sleep or something. You look terrible."

He rolled his eyes, "Thanks," he said, the sarcasm dripping from the word.

She shrugged, now unapologetic. "I didn't picture you as the type to wallow in self-pity."

He stood now, the room cemented in one place, finally. "That wasn't what I was doing," he insisted.

"You drank yourself into oblivion and left your father's ashes outside. Anyone could have walked by and taken them."

He narrowed his eyes at her. This need to explain himself to her was unsettling. "Who exactly was going to steal them? It's an urn."

She shrugged, "I don't know, it just doesn't seem right."

He shook his head, feeling appropriately chastised before grabbing his keys from the counter, "Go open the place up and start warming up. I'll be there in a minute."

Payson sighed and took the keys from his hand. With a swish of her long hair, the tangy coconut scent of her shampoo invading his senses, she was gone. He rubbed a hand over his face trying to clear the last few cobwebs from his mind.

He stayed in the shower for as long as the hot water lasted, which in a trailer like his wasn't long at all. Two Tylenol and a mug of hot tea later, he walked into the gym. The lights were on and Payson was stretching out, using the men's parallel bars as an anchor as she extended her legs as far as they would go.

"Ready?" he asked, startling her, her leg slipping down from where she held her stretch, above her head.

She whirled on him, "I could have dislocated my hip," she said.

He rolled his eyes, "Don't be dramatic," he said. "Two circuits and we'll start on the beam."

There was comfort in this routine. She didn't ask him how he was doing, didn't drudge up the topic that hung over him. She just simply allowed them to fall back into their daily ritual, driven by their mutual focus and intensity.

A full warm up and a solid beam workout later, Payson stood just off to his side, sipping some water. "What are you going to do with his ashes?" she asked, taking him completely by surprise after they'd worked together for an hour in near silence.

He was so shocked that he actually answered, "I'm not sure," he said.

She bit her lip and nodded, before tightening the cap on her water bottle and tossing it into her gym bag. "Sasha," she began.

He shook his head to stop her. He didn't need or want her pity or her condolences, he just wanted to work. "I'm fine," he assured her.

"You're not," she said, with a small eye roll, "but that wasn't what I was going to say. You want my bars set next?"

"Yeah," he said, as she turned away from him and moved towards the uneven bars to adjust the height and tension to her needs. He followed her, working on the high bar while she worked on the low.

"The airstream," she began, referring to his beloved trailer, and looked up at him, almost asking permission to continue. He nodded. "It's different from the cabin in Cambria."

"And?" he asked, smiling at her seemingly random observation.

She shrugged, pulling on her grips and chalking her hands thoroughly. "Why do you live in that anyway?"

"I like…"

"…a short commute, yeah I know, but there's an apartment complex four blocks from here." She raised a skeptical eyebrow in his direction. "So what's the deal?"

"Where's this coming from?" he asked, not sure he wanted to answer.

"Just curious," she asked, stretching her arms behind her back, pulling them over her head, making sure she was loose.

He studied her closely, looking for what, he wasn't sure. Finally he decided to simply level with her. "I thought this was temporary, when I started."

She smiled at him, "Well that much was obvious, but why stay in it? It's not still temporary, is it?" she asked.

Ah, so that's where it was coming from. She was afraid he was going to leave again. "Payson, I'm not going anywhere. I meant what I said. I promised I would never leave you again and I won't."

She nodded, "Then why? I mean it can't be comfortable living in that thing. You barely fit in the bed."

"It adds to my mysterious aura."

She laughed outright at that and he joined her, their eyes meeting. He'd never really noticed before but her eyes weren't blue as he'd thought. They were grey. He felt his own laughter fade and hers followed as she noticed his steady gaze. "What?" she asked, a self-conscious grin appearing, her gaze breaking away from his.

He shook himself out of the daze, "Nothing, sorry."

She bit her lip and looked back at him, "You're not getting off that easy. What are you planning to do then? Stay here until after we all get back from London and then move back to Cambria with one of my gold medals?"

He looked up at her quickly. As usual, she'd said it lightly, but she'd hit the nail on the head, "Unless you feel like you have another Olympic cycle in you," he said.

She looked away from him and nodded, before stepping up to the bars and pulling herself up to the low bar, transitioning onto the high and beginning her aerial combination. She rotated at high speed, flinging herself through the air. Sasha stepped up onto the mat to spot her as she flew off the high bar, twisted around and caught it, a beautiful Gienger. She allowed body's momentum to fail as she swung down from it and released to land on the mat.

He nodded in approval. She'd been battling leg separation on that skill, though she'd nailed it at Worlds. Payson's journey through the all-around competition was one of the clearest memories he had of the week in Brazil. She'd all but carried him through the week, first as he'd gone into a practical catatonic state at the hospital where his father died and then as he'd resumed his coaching duties during the all-around and event finals. It seemed every time he needed someone to just be there, she'd been by his side.

"How was that? I thought I felt them together," she asked, pushing a stray hair out of her eyes and looking up at him, her hands coming to rest on her hips.

He nodded, "Very good," he said. She nodded and moved to pull herself up onto the bars again, but he stopped her, laying a hand on her arm. "Payson."

She turned to him, "Yeah?"

"I never did thank you, did I, for being there last week? I don't know what I would have done…" he trailed off.

"You did," she said, moving out from under the bars towards him again. "You thanked me in the hospital, just after we went to see…"

"Huh," he said, trying to recall that moment, but it was all one long, painful blur, "I don't remember doing that." Then he shook himself, thinking about what he'd put her through that night. "I never should have taken you in that room with me. I don't know what I was thinking," he said, looking away from her, running his hands through his hair.

She took another step towards him. "I wanted to be there." He looked at her strangely then, their eyes meeting and she smiled, a little sheepishly, "I wanted to be there for you, like you've been there for me."

He pulled his lips into a firm line, "You didn't owe me anything, Payson. You still don't."

Payson sighed and bit her lip. Her face was unreadable. He had no idea what was going through that mind of hers. He could usually read her like a book, but in this moment she was an enigma. "Maybe not, but, look, just for a minute, I'm going to pretend that you're not my coach." She smiled up at him, "Don't worry. I'm not going to kiss you again," she said, tucking the same stray hair that bothered her earlier behind her ear. "You once told me that a relationship between a coach and athlete is like no other relationship in the world and I agree, but I think that maybe, we're not just that."

He opened his mouth to cut her off, but she shook her head, "Please let me finish." He nodded and she took a deep breath. "You're my coach and I have all the respect in the world for you. I wouldn't be where I am today without you and you know that. But I think that maybe, somewhere between my injury and winning Worlds last year, something changed. You're not just my coach and I'm not just an athlete. I think maybe we're friends too or as close as you can get to friends for people like us. At least, when we were sitting in that waiting room, I wasn't sitting next to my coach. I was sitting next to _you_ and you needed me there and I wanted to be there for you. I'm not going crazy right? We're _different_, aren't we?"

He stared at her silently for a moment, letting her words wash over him. Was she right? Was their relationship different from the ones he had with Kaylie and Emily and Lauren and all the other gymnasts he'd ever coached. They were closer, certainly. They'd been through hell and back together. He nodded, looking her in the eye. She was biting her lip nervously; obviously afraid she'd crossed another line. "We are different," he agreed finally.

She nodded, "I thought so," she said, before turning back towards the bars. Sasha let out a sigh of relief. It felt like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders, a weight he hadn't realized was there in the first place. Then Payson turned to him again and met his eyes. There was something in her gaze he'd seen before, an understanding, he's seen it for the first time when she'd barged into his cabin in Cambria demanding he return to coach her, then again during the incredible run to her first World Championship and several times after that, the most recent being in the moments just before the hotel staff notified him his father had been rushed to the hospital. They had an ability to create a tiny universe all their own when their eyes met. It was part of what made them _different_ as she said earlier.

"You have something else to say?" he asked, his voice lower than he expected, raspy even. He cleared it lightly. The words hadn't broken the spell.

She smiled softly, "When do you leave?" she asked.

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes in confusion, "I'm not going anywhere, Payson, like I told you."

Her smile widened a little, though there was sadness to it that confused him all the more. "That's not what I mean. When do you leave for Romania, to scatter your dad's ashes?"

The confusion was gone and he sighed. She'd known before he had what he intended to do, what was the right thing to do. A warmth, a deep sense of affection for this girl who'd grown to be so much more than another gymnast washed over him. He swallowed roughly, his gaze still burning into hers, unwavering. He shook his head, "Soon," he said and she nodded in understanding.

"Good," she said and moved away again towards the bars.

"Your dismount," Sasha requested as she moved up to the high bar, built momentum steadily, swinging around three times before releasing into her double backwards straight with a double twist, the dismount she'd performed flawlessly time and time again. This time was no exception.

She landed perfectly and looked to him expectantly, "Thank you, that was – that was exactly right," he said, hoping his full meaning came through.

Her bright smile and nod were all the confirmation he needed to know that it had.

* * *

**A/N: **So the universe decided to take revenge on me for saying previously that this fic writes itself. Anyway, hope you enjoyed this little foray into Sasha's consciousness. I love getting into that man's head. He's a lot of fun to write. Hopefully after last week, now that I'm back in the swing of things and not being completely lambasted by the week from hell, I'll be able to get back to updating quickly. Please let me know what you think. Reviews are like crack and I'm an addict.


	11. Defending

Payson woke up, the cold February sun's rays momentarily blinding her as she blinked awake. It was like she had an internal clock, it somehow also kept track of the days of the week. Monday through Saturday she was up before the sun to get some conditioning in before she went to the Rock to train, but on Sundays, her sole day off and family day in the Keeler household, her body usually let her sleep until long after the sun's rays shone in through her window. This Sunday was no exception at least as far as her sleep pattern was concerned. In every other way it was different. Today would not be family day. This Sunday Kim and Mark Keeler along with their daughters were cordially invited to event the Rock had been buzzing about for months, the wedding of Summer Van Horne to Steve Tanner.

In light of that, Payson allowed herself some blissful moments of peace, lounging in her bed, staring up at the ceiling, her mind pleasantly blank. Until her bedroom door creaking open interrupted her meditation, "Pay, you up?" her mother asked quietly.

She rolled over onto her side, facing her mother's questioning face, "I am, but you won't be able to change my mind," she said, firmly.

They'd battled this out since Payson made her feelings about attending the wedding clear just before Kim sent back the RSVP card. She'd snatched the card from her mother's hands and crossed her name off the expensively printed card, changing the number attending from four to three as well.

Kim shook her head, "I still don't understand why you don't want to go. Lauren is so excited that Summer and her father are getting married. Summer has been nothing but wonderful to our family over the years and Lauren is your friend. I don't get it, Pay."

Payson shook her head. "You don't have to get it," she said with a shrug. "I have my reasons."

She had never shared with her mother the reason she's ceased being friends with Lauren Tanner, at least once the cameras weren't watching. She would be her teammate and support her in the gym, but nothing more. In fact she'd been so good at hiding her feelings on the subject, she wasn't even sure if Lauren knew just how much she still resented her. Sending that picture to Ellen Beals, nearly ruining Sasha's life as a result, not to mention both of their careers, it was something she wouldn't ever get over. It wasn't the action of a girl in pain, it was malicious and vindictive and there was no excuse.

Payson also knew she was one of the few aware that Sasha and Summer had once been an item. She'd been purposefully blind to it when her crush on him had reached its peak, but afterward she'd realized it, little things coming together leading her to one conclusion, only to have it truly confirmed when Sasha mistook her for Summer in his trailer just after his father's death. As far as she could work out, their split had coincided with Sasha's leaving the Rock just after World trials. It might be a battle she was fighting all on her own, one no one else was aware of, but she was firmly on Sasha's side, whether he still had feelings for her or not, and attending Summer's wedding to Steve Tanner, she felt would be a betrayal of her coach and friend.

Kim Keeler frowned at her daughter and closed the door behind her. Payson rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling again, letting her mind go blank as she heard the telltale signs of her family moving around the house, showering, blow drying, searching for a pocket square, Becca asking her mother if she could borrow her pearl earrings. Then, nothing, silence following the firm closing of the front door and the sound of their car pulling out of the drive way and down the street.

She rolled over again, checking the clock on her nightstand. Nine in the morning. She knew it was an all day affair, starting with a brunch for the guests and continuing well into the night at the reception. She briefly considered pulling the covers over her head and going back to sleep, but that would be a total waste, so she slid her legs out from beneath her sheets and stood, changing quickly into cold weather gear and lacing up her sneakers. A run would do her good, especially in the cold weather when the mountain air grew even thinner.

A few minutes later she stood at the bottom of the hill the Rock had claimed as their own, the path just under a mile straight up nearly the entire way. She checked the timer on her watch and was about to begin when she heard footsteps behind her. She turned, briefly blinded by the sun's glare and then smiled when she saw who it was. "Fancy meeting you here," she said and smiled at Sasha as he approached, fiddling with his iPod.

He looked up, sheer surprise crossing his features when he saw her. "Payson," he began, "what are you doing here? Why aren't you at the wedding?"

She bit her lip, not sure if he would really want to know her reasoning. She settled on at least part of the truth, "I'm not exactly a huge fan of the Tanner family," she said, leaving it at that.

He nodded, obviously understanding. "Me neither."

"You here to run?" she asked, though the answer was obvious.

He nodded, "We can do five and a half minutes to the top?" he asked, placing his earbuds in his ears.

"Let's see how that knee of yours holds up," she said with a smirk, firmly planting her own earbuds in, starting her music and then together, they began at a slow jog, before moving into a comfortable running pace. They ran in silence, each listening to their music. The pavement beneath them was rock hard and she thought once she saw Sasha's knee buckle a little, but he hardly broke stride so she kept going. They reached the top, breathing hard, but not out of breath and looked down at their watches simultaneously, five minutes, twenty eight seconds. She looked up and smiled at him, which he returned.

"Five minutes downhill," he said with a smirk.

"Stretch your knee first," she said, nodding down towards his left knee. He set his mouth in a thin line, but she raised her eyebrows at him and rolling his eyes, he complied, lunging forward, nearly toppling over as an obvious pain shot through his leg. She stepped forward, grabbing his arms to steady him. "You okay?" she asked and he nodded, grimacing.

"Stupid bloody knee," he grumbled between clenched teeth, as his hands grasped her forearms, allowing her to help his balance as he stretched his knee out. He leaned into her and she pushed back, offering some resistance. "There," he said finally, standing up and shaking out the appendage.

"How's that?" she asked and he nodded. "Let's not push it, okay? Six minutes down."

They began again wordlessly, neither of them replacing their earbuds, the sounds of their even breathing, puffs of smoky breath escaping their mouths as they ran in silence down the hill.

"You eat yet?" he asked as they pulled to a stop at the bottom of the hill, checking in a five minutes and fifty-six seconds. She began stretching to cool down and he moved into a lunge again.

She shook her head, standing twisting in place, stretching her core muscles, "I came here first," she said.

He nodded, "Come on, I'll buy you breakfast," he said, motioning to his truck just a few feet away.

They found a small restaurant, one Sasha obviously frequented often because one of the waitresses immediately brought him a cup of tea and then looked to Payson, "Orange juice," she said with a smile.

"Come here often?" she asked and he shrugged.

"Sunday mornings," he said, emptying a sugar into his tea. "By Sunday I'm usually desperate to get the hell out of my trailer and the Rock is taken over by beginner lessons and birthday parties, so…"

"So you get the hell out of Dodge before the parents can corner you," she finished for him, having had that happen to her on several occasions. What exactly parents of the four years olds thought she would be able to do for their daughters she had no idea, but she'd been trapped for nearly a half hour before she'd been able to extricate herself.

He laughed, "Exactly," he said. "Besides, they play football on the telly." He nodded towards the television set behind her, a soccer match airing on the screen.

"Football on the telly," she mimicked his accent, "or you know, for those of us here in America, soccer on the television."

They laughed and the waitress came back placing an orange juice down in front of her.

Sasha looked up and the waitress raised her eyebrows, "The usual?"

He looked uncomfortable for a moment and then shook his head, "Just porridge today," he said.

Payson looked up from her menu, "Egg whites and the fruit cup on the side, please," she asked and the waitress nodded before taking their menus and leaving them again. Payson eyed him suspiciously, "What do you usually get?" she asked. He took a sip of his tea, she assumed to buy some time. "You don't have to feel guilty, Sasha, you aren't a gymnast anymore," she said with a laugh.

He rolled his eyes, "I know that, I just didn't want to eat that kind of crap in front of you when you can't have it."

She smiled and didn't know what to say so she teased him lightly, "So gentlemanly," she said and he rolled his eyes at her, before balling up the empty sugar packet and tossing it at her, hitting her directly on the forehead. "And then he ruins it," she said with a sigh, flicking the little paper ball back at him. It flew off the table edge and disappeared from view. They both laughed.

"So how's what's his face?" he asked, sitting back in his seat.

She sat back as well, studiously avoiding his eyes. She knew exactly who he was talking about. After her second world title she'd had no choice but to hire an agent, the calls he and her parents were fielding had completely overwhelmed them. Sponsors like Gatorade, Rolex, a few fashion designers, Nike and so many others she'd begun to lose track. She hadn't gone with MJ, but an agent recommended to her by Nastia Liukin, Evan Morgenstein.

One of the first things he set up for her was a feature in Sports Illustrated, along with several other Olympic hopefuls in a variety of sports. It was there she met Kyle Gibbs. Kyle was a swimmer at the University of Michigan. They'd hit it off almost immediately. He was being dubbed the next Michael Phelps, something he rolled his eyes at, the same way she rolled her eyes at comparisons the media made between her and gymnasts who'd come before. He was sweet, refreshingly outgoing and funny and could talk about a lot of different things. He was also a shameless flirt and he made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. The interview and photo shoot had been over a couple of days and the photographers, having sensed their natural chemistry, paired them up for much of the shoot. Were they dating? She wouldn't call it that, but they spoke almost every day, they texted and tweeted and fans were making YouTube videos of them. It was a long distance relationship that neither of them defined, though things got pretty intense physically the last time they'd seen each other at an event in Los Angeles just before the holidays.

_They'd wandered away from the crowd, hand in hand, trying to sneak in some time alone. It was so rare they were in the same place at the same time and she would be flying back to Boulder the next morning. The hotel lead out onto the beach and the night was absolutely perfect, a crescent moon reflecting off the Pacific Ocean. They walked just shy of the water line, fingers entwined together, holding their shoes in their other hand. A cool breeze kicked up off the water and she shivered._

"_Cold?" he asked and she smiled at him tightly before nodding. He looked around and then took her hand. "Come on," he said leading her back up the beach. She saw there were some cabanas set up, strings of lights outlining the canvas fabric creating a beautiful ambiance. They stepped inside and he pulled on her hand lightly, "Let's see if I can warm you up a little," he said, leaning down to brush his lips against hers. His large warm hands splayed at the small of her back, pulling her body into his as she pushed up on her toes. Despite this, the height difference was ridiculous. He was six foot four and had to bend awkwardly at the neck just to kiss her. They pulled apart laughing softly at their predicament. Suddenly, inspiration struck her as she grabbed his hand and led him to the large couch at the center of the cabana. _

_Time lost its meaning for a while as they lay down on the couch, she on her back, him just next to her on his side. The kisses were long, hot and slow as their tongues explored tentatively at first, but then with more confidence as their hands wandered aimlessly and then with more purpose. _

_Then suddenly a loud bang intruded on their beach hideaway, followed by another and then another, rapidly. They leapt up and looked outside to see fireworks lighting up the night sky. _

"_Wow," she said smiling, not having seen a fireworks display this large since a family vacation to Disneyland when she was a small child. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" _

_She felt his arms wind around her middle, pulling her back against him as they watched together. "Gorgeous." _

_He'd walked her back to her room not long afterwards. She had a flight to catch early the next morning, but the way he'd kissed her at her hotel room door had almost convinced her to invite him in so they could continue what they'd started down at the beach. The thought both excited and terrified her. Then the moment passed and he'd murmured, "Good night, Payson," in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She'd leaned against the doorframe watching him round the corner before she finally exhaled. _

"Payson?" Sasha's voice drew her back into the present.

She shook her head and felt a small flush creep into her cheeks at her obvious distraction. "Kyle," she supplied for him and he nodded. "You know I'm not actually violating the no dating rule."

"I didn't say you were," he said, as their food arrived.

She nodded and looked up at the waitress, "Thank you," she said and the older woman smiled at her and then nodded to Sasha before leaving them again.

"You implied it," she said raising her eyebrows at him. He shrugged and added some sugar to his porridge, stirring it well.

"You didn't answer my question," he said, looking back up at her.

She shrugged, "He's good. Training hard. He's hoping to qualify for six different races at the Olympic trials and I guess that's a lot, so he's been pretty tired."

Sasha nodded and they lapsed into silence. She wished she could get away with kicking him under the table for bringing it up. She remembered clearly how angry he'd been with her when the photographs had come out.

"_Payson, can I see you in my office," he said from the platform at the top of the stairs. She looked up and nodded, but then he added, "Now." _

_She looked at Emily across the chalk bowl who shrugged. Payson pulled off her bars grips and tossed them onto the mat before moving off the floor, up the stairs and into his office. _

"_What's up?" she asked. He was standing next to his desk, holding something rolled up in his hand. _

"_You want to tell me what this is?" he asked, tossing the object onto the desk. It unrolled and there on the cover of Sports Illustrated was a picture of her and Kyle Gibbs. She remembered the shot. He was giving her a piggy back ride, her head peaking out over his shoulder, their cheeks pressed together as they smiled brightly for the camera. Under their faces was a caption, "Olympic Hopefuls and America's Sweethearts."_

_She opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off. "You do realize that this gym has a no dating policy and you're not exempt from it simply because you're the World Champion? The rules are the rules, Payson."_

_She shook her head, "It's a picture, Sasha. I'm not dating him. He lives in Michigan," she said as calmly as she could. He quirked an eyebrow in her direction and she rolled her eyes. "Texting and talking on the phone isn't dating, Sasha. It's called being friends and last time I checked it wasn't your job to choose my friends for me." _

_He looked down at the picture, "Friends," he said, rolling his eyes. "He does not want to be your friend, Payson. I've never met the kid and I know that."_

"_Right, because you're omniscient, I forgot," she said sarcastically, knowing she was walking a fine line, despite their close relationship. His answer shocked her however._

_He ran a frustrated hand through his hair and shouted, "No, because guys like that aren't friends with girls like you." _

_She scoffed lightly, "And who exactly are girls like me?" she shot back at him._

"_Have you looked in the mirror lately, Payson?" he asked, rolling his eyes at her obliviousness. "He doesn't want to be your friend. He wants a lot more than that." _

_She stared at him for a moment and then two, the silence hanging over them heavily. The same intensity that linked them together in training and on the competition floor radiating around them again in a way that made her feel safe and slightly uncomfortable at the same time. How they managed the dichotomy was beyond her, but she felt it._

_She rolled her eyes, trying to rid them of the tension and shrugged, "Maybe, maybe not," she acknowledged finally, "but he lives in Michigan, so the point is moot." _

_He nodded, obviously upset with himself now, "Just," he sighed stopping himself for a moment. "Just be careful, okay?" _

_He was concerned about her, she knew that, even if he wasn't able to express it to her. His protective instincts had kicked in and instead of just saying that from the beginning he yelled at her. He was such a guy sometimes it made her crazy. She nodded, "Okay," she said. "Can I go?" _

"_Yeah," he said and she nodded heading towards the door, but stopped when she heard, "Payson," he called._

"_Yeah?" she asked, looking back at him. He stood there for a moment, sighed and then shrugged helplessly. She shook her head in understanding, "Forget it," she said, "its fine." _

"_I…" he began, but she cut him off again._

"_Really, it's fine," she said before leaving his office and heading back down to the floor. She looked up as she stepped on to the mats and realized everyone was staring at her. She glared at them fiercely and suddenly the gym was a flurry of activity again. _

"_What was that about?" Kaylie asked, Emily and Lauren hot on her heels. "We couldn't hear what he was saying, but we heard you both yelling."_

_Payson rolled her eyes, "Nothing," she said, knowing they'd find out soon enough when the magazine came out officially. _

The silence at the table was palpable as they both took bites of their food and avoided eye contact. "I'm sorry I brought it up," he mumbled. She looked at him and met his gaze. There was an apology in his eyes as well. She nodded. Then opened her mouth to say something, not really sure what when they were interrupted.

"Excuse me, are you Payson Keeler and Sasha Belov?" a tiny, girlish voice asked. They both looked to the edge of their booth and saw a little girl, probably about eight standing there grasping a piece of paper and a pen as well as a phone that obviously had a camera on it.

"We are," Sasha said flashing the girl a smile.

"Can I have your autographs and will you take a picture with me? My mom said I could sign up for gymnastics over the summer this year at the Rock," the little girl rambled as Sasha took the paper from her and scribbled his name before handing it to Payson. They moved out of the booth and knelt down together, their shoulders pressing together as the little girl nestled between them. Sasha's arm went around her shoulders. She could feel the heat of his hand even through her warm-up jacket and the underarmor she wore beneath it. The girl's mother took the phone and snapped their picture and he moved away quickly, but she could feel his fingers pressing against her arm. "If I bring the picture this summer do you think you could autograph that too?" the little girl asked.

"Sure," Payson said as she stood and sat back down in her seat.

"Come on, sweetie, let them enjoy their breakfast," the mother said as she practically forcibly dragged her daughter away from them, still babbling on happy. She mouthed a thank you to them and they smiled in return.

"Your adoring public," Sasha said with a shake of his head and a smile.

Payson raised her eyebrows and smirked, "She knew who you were too," she reminded him. He nodded absently as his eyes drifted behind her towards the television and then silently pumped his fist. She turned in her seat and looked at the television where there was still a soccer match going on. "I'm sorry am I keeping you from your match?" she asked.

His eyes drifted guiltily from the screen back down to her and he shrugged. "I never understood soccer anyway. Every time something exciting happens, they blow the whistle."

He shook his head, "It's called being offsides," he explained. "They blow the whistle because the player is offsides."

She shook her head having no idea what he was talking about. He shook his head and rolled his eyes before shifting over on his side of the booth, "Come over here," he said, patting the seat beside him and focusing on the table, moving around salt and pepper shakers seemingly with intent, though she couldn't imagine what it was as she moved out from her seat and sat next to him.

"Here are your defenders," he said, motioning towards the catsup and the salt and pepper shakers.

She looked at him and shook her head, "I've seen _Bend it Like Beckham_," she said.

He shook his head, "Maybe, but you don't understand the offside rule, do you?" he asked and she rolled her eyes, but nodded for him to continue.

"The sugar container is our striker, the main goal scorer for the other team," he said. "When the ball is passed from one of his teammates towards him, when that teammate's foot hits the ball he has to be at least even with the defenders or closer to his own goal than they are." He put the sugar container beyond the rest of his 'defenders.' "Offside or onside?"

"Offside," she said, "but why? I think if the defenders are stupid enough to let someone get behind them they deserve to give up a goal."

"Because there's too much ground to cover, it would be impossible for the defenders to patrol all that ground if the other team was just allowed to wander behind them, too much responsibility for the defenders and way too easy for the offensive player. Watch," he said finally, motioning up to the screen.

She watched, for ten minutes, Sasha obviously living and dying with each second ticking away on the clock, his team in red in the lead, until she saw a player wearing a blue jersey creep behind the defenders wearing red and take a pass neatly from his teammate before launching it to the back of the net.

"Offside!" they both shouted together and leapt up out of their seats. They watched with satisfaction as the referee disallowed the goal and then sat back down laughing, their shoulders bumping playfully.

"Do you understand now?" he asked turning towards her. "It puts the defense at a disadvantage, gives the other team a head start."

She smiled and nodded, "I get it now," she said and sat back with a sigh, settling in to watch the rest of the match.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, so it wasn't the clearest analogy ever, but it was subtle, kind of like their relationship in this fic. If you didn't see it the first time, go back and read the last, oh, 500 words or so. ;-) I heartily apologize for those of you who've been waiting for an update of this fic. I had these chapters all planned out and then decided to go in a slightly different direction, just slightly, but obviously enough that it kind of threw me off course for a while. Anyway hope you enjoyed it and the next chapter will obviously be from Sasha's point of view. Yay, love writing from his POV. Please let me know what you think. I've said it once and I'll say it again, I'm addicted to feedback. Reviews are my drug of choice!


	12. Lying

The Rock was almost completely dark. Almost. The recessed lighting high in the rafters was still on, providing just enough light for a person to see well enough, but not the usual blinding fluorescent illumination the gym needed when there were dozens of gymnasts gracing its floor during the day. Sasha knew Payson thought if she turned all the main lights off, except those highest to the ceiling he would forget she was still in the gym training and not long gone like the rest of the Rock's athletes. This time of night he was usually holed up in his office slogging through paperwork that he didn't have time to take care of during the day. After her wedding, Summer stayed true to her word and told Steve she no longer wanted to work at the Rock. Since then, his day to day administrative duties had increased ten-fold. The job was too big for one person, that much was obvious. It was astounding how much went into the behind the scenes operation of a place like the Rock. Kim still tackled most of the major things like insurance, financials and travel arrangements, but he felt it his duty to contribute however he could, especially since he was at least partially responsible for the office being shorthanded. They were in the process of interviewing replacement candidates, but so far none had been quite the right fit. So he worked long into the night almost every night, allowing Payson to think he'd forgotten about her as she trained longer and harder than anyone he'd ever coached.

He glanced out of the office window and saw her on the tape just off the practice beams, working through her hand motions, hitting each flick of the fingers and lift of her chin precisely and obvious intention. Sasha watched as Payson finished her work on the tape with a satisfied nod and moved over to the high beam, but not before surreptitiously looking up towards the office to see if her presence still went forgotten and unnoticed. It was a game they played every night, which he deliberately lost until he had real intentions of locking up for the night. He chuckled to himself as she smiled sheepishly up at him having been caught, but that didn't stop her from moving the springboard into place for her beam mount. She moved through the routine flawlessly, being sure to maintain the precision she'd just worked on with her arms, hands and fingers as she worked through her difficulty packed routine.

There was a reason she was a two time World and National Champion and the favorite to win gold in London. Payson was driven to perfection, but not a perfectionist. It was a rare combination and it was what made her great. It was what separated her from the rest of the world. It was also a stunningly attractive quality, one that drew the attention of a startlingly amount of young men, but none more so than Kyle Gibbs, swimmer for the University of Michigan and her "friend" as she put it to him and in countless interviews, her eyes twinkling secretly, giving her away at least to anyone who knew her well.

If there was one skill Payson Keeler hadn't perfected, it was lying at least not to him.

_It was rare for a National Championship to feel like little more than a preliminary round, almost a practice for more important events to come, but every four years that was the case as the Nationals came just two weeks before the Olympic trials and just a month before the games themselves. The atmosphere was relaxed almost blasé. Sasha was unhappy with it. The opportunity to compete should never be treated as fait accompli, but it was the attitude that permeated the arena during practice and even through the first day of competition. _

_He glanced at his printed copy of the scores for the day and the preliminary standings. Despite the relaxed feel of the competition he was pleased to see his girls doing so well. If things continued in this direction all four Rock girls would waltz onto the Olympic team next month. He folded the sheet of paper and placed it into the back pocket of his jeans as he exited the hotel elevator. There was a rare bookshop directly across the street from the hotel they were staying at and he'd been dying to rummage through it since they'd checked in two days ago. He looked up as he stepped off the lift and met the startled gaze of Payson Keeler. _

"_Sasha," she said as her mouth dropped open slightly, her eyes growing wide, a classic deer in the headlights expression and then suddenly it all became clear as he noticed her hand was linked with someone else's: a distinctly masculine hand, which led to a strong looking wrist. Sasha skipped ahead and looked up to see the tanned face and sandy blond hair of Kyle Gibbs standing just behind Payson, his large swimmers frame towering over hers, a small grin on his face._

_Sasha decided to have some pity on the poor girl, "Sasha Belov," he said, extending his hand towards Gibbs who released Payson's hand to shake his with a good strong grip, not too tight, but not weak, it spoke of confidence and composure. "Payson's coach," he clarified in case Kyle didn't know, though he was sure that he would._

"_Kyle Gibbs," he said, displaying very white teeth as he smiled. "Payson's boyfriend." Sasha blinked at the word and felt an odd sinking sensation in his stomach before he nodded, slightly impressed. The kid had balls, he'd give him that. Sasha raised his eyebrows and Payson had the grace to blush. _

"_It's great to finally meet you," he said, releasing Kyle's hand, but the young Olympic hopeful maintained eye contact, a sign of respect and of honest._

_Kyle nodded, "You too. Payson talks about you all the time." He punctuated the words by placing his arm around Payson's shoulders._

"_When did you get into town?" Sasha asked, his hands pushing into his pockets. Payson glared at him for extending what he knew was probably torture for her._

"_Just before the start of competition today, I wanted to surprise her." _

_Sasha smirked at Payson. She was biting her lip, her eyes darting back and forth between them, looking like she wanted to crawl under a rock and die, "I bet she was surprised," he said, raising his eyebrows in her direction, but she wasn't looking at him._

"_Very surprised," she said and smiling up at Kyle who obviously took that as a cue to lean down and press a small kiss to her lips. _

_Sasha's eyebrows shot up even further and Payson pulled back quickly. He cleared his throat uncomfortably and nodded, "Well you two have a nice evening." He nodded to Kyle and smiled tightly at Payson who just blinked back at him._

_He left them standing in the elevator bay, not entirely sure how he felt about what just happened. He was upset because Payson lied to him, but was it really all that bad? Even as the words had passed her lips, he knew she wasn't being completely honest. As far as the no dating rule was concerned he was well aware no one really followed it. He shook his head as he left the hotel. The problem was he put Payson on a pedestal. Had this lowered his estimation of her? No, at least not in any way that mattered. It was perfectly normal for a beautiful eighteen year old girl to have a boyfriend. It was simply that he'd never considered Payson to be normal. In his eyes she'd always been something greater than that, a quintessence of what every young elite gymnast should be. He sighed, shaking his head, but that wasn't right either. She had her ups and downs just like anyone else. He was sure she had regrets and he knew there were moments when insecurity crept under her skin. In fact he'd been the one she'd gone to in those moments. He supposed that wasn't the case anymore. He shrugged to himself slightly as the thought washed over him, an uncomfortable knot settling in his stomach, but he quickly pushed it away as he entered the bookshop just next door to the hotel. _

_He hadn't given it another thought until fate forced it upon him the following morning. He was always an early riser, a product of his training and then his coaching career. Most gymnasts start their days before the sun rose and he was no exception. He dressed quickly in shorts, a tee-shirt and trainers before heading out of his room for a quick run in the hotel's gym. He'd just closed his hotel room door behind him when further down the hallway, towards the floor's elevator bay where the girls had their rooms, motion caught his eye. He watched as Kyle Gibbs slipped from a hotel room wearing the same clothes Sasha had seen him in the night before, though now distinctly more wrinkled, as if they'd spent the night on the floor. He watched as a hand reached out from the door and pulled Kyle back towards the door. His eyes grew wide in horrified fascination as a very familiar blonde head peaked out of the room, followed by a body wrapped up in one of the hotel's five hundred thread count sheets. Kyle turned and leaned in, kissing the woman passionately, one hand burying into her messy blonde locks, the other holding her firmly at the small of her back, pressing her shoulders into the doorframe before he pulled away smiling and she pushed him gently, but insistently away from her towards the elevators. He watched her watch him walk away. Finally he disappeared around the corner and she back into her room. _

_Sasha simply stood there too shocked to do anything else. Then his feet were carrying him down the hallway before he'd even made the decision to move in that direction. It felt oddly familiar, and then he remembered. Two years ago, at the World championships he'd knocked on her door after seeing Nicky Russo leaving her room. This was entirely different, he told himself as he raised his knuckles to knock on the door, but then stopped himself, lowering his hand. _

_What was he going to say to her? Was he ready to embarrass her? To complete destroy the relationship they'd honed for the last three years? That's what would happen if he knocked on her door right now and she answered it looking thoroughly… He let his thoughts trail off, unwilling to let his mind wander in that direction. He shook his head and cursed lightly under his breath before turning on his heel and marching towards the gym. He had some built up aggression that he'd take out on a punching bag if they had one. _

The gym had in fact possessed a punching bag and now a week later, his knuckles were still raw from the damaged he'd done to them that morning. He wasn't sure where the anger had come from, but there was certainly a lot of it. The sweat had poured from his body as he'd worked the bag, breathing harshly through his nose, allowing the adrenaline to flow through his veins. He'd finally left the gym, hours later, physically and mentally drained, exactly what he'd wanted.

Whatever happened, he didn't allow himself to dwell on the specifics, hadn't affected her performance at Nationals in the slightest. She'd won the all-around going away, along with gold in the floor and on the uneven bars, silver on the vault and beam. The networks loved it, panning a camera over Kyle's face whenever they had the opportunity to do so. America's Sweethearts, as Sports Illustrated had dubbed them, a golden couple. They would be one of the major stories of the games in London with the opportunity to win twelve medals between them.

He frowned to himself as he signed the final piece of paper on his desk, his expense report from Nationals. He stapled his receipts from the event to the report and tossed it into Kim's inbox before standing up and stretching. He'd sat in one place too long and his body let him know with a resounding crack from his spine. He walked off the stiffness, shutting the office door behind him and moving onto the floor just in the time to see Payson finish her beam routine. She raised her arms in salute and then turned to him.

"Alright, that's enough," he said from just off the mat. "Call it a night."

She nodded and moved towards the water cooler, taking a drink. "What do you think?" she asked, pulling her hair out of the messy ponytail and replacing it quickly at the top of her head.

"I think it's time you call it a night," he said shortly and she raised her eyebrows. His tone was harsh and to her it probably seemed out of nowhere.

She looked away from him quickly and bit her lip. "Okay," she said, obviously unsure what to do or say.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. He clenched his teeth, upset with himself now. He looked at her an opened his mouth, but then closed his again in frustration and looked away.

"Damn it, Sasha," she said, drawing his attention back to her. "Are you ever going to tell me what's on your mind or are we going to play this game right through the Olympics?" she asked finally, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "I don't get it. No one has followed the no dating rule for years. I mean you suspended Carter that one time, but he and Lauren were together after that and Kaylie and Austin have been together for nearly as long. Emily has Damon and I finally meet a guy that…," her voice caught on whatever she was going to say next as she changed tracks, "Why can't you just be happy for me?" she asked, looking up at him, her eyes begging for an answer.

There it was. It was a simple question. She was right about all of it, so why couldn't he just be happy for her? Why did his gut wrench painfully every time he thought of her and that kid together? She liked him, obviously, she was happy, so what was the problem. Why couldn't he just be happy for her?

"Sasha?" she asked, taking his hand in hers, stepping closer to him, so close the scent of her coconut shampoo mixed with the sweet smell of sweat wafted up from the top of her head. He looked down as she laced their fingers together, like she had that night in his cabin, the same way she'd held it the night his father died, it was a familiar sensation, but suddenly it was completely new. Her proximity set his nerves on edge, his throat growing uncomfortably dry. He knew what he wanted in that moment as her eyes met his. He wanted to pull her closer, swoop down and kiss her, pull her body against his, feel the soft curve of her waist, brush his fingers against the smoothness of her neck, taste the salty sweetness of her skin on his tongue. He wanted her lying beneath him, nails dug into the skin of his back as he made love to her.

He exhaled sharply, pulling himself from the depths of his fantasy and swallowed roughly, breaking eye contact, trying to free himself from the intensity that always seemed to swirl around them. Then he pulled his hand from hers slowly, letting his calloused fingertips softly glide across the smooth skin of the back of her hand before releasing it completely. His heart pounded against his ribcage unevenly as he took a deep breath to try and regain his equilibrium.

"I am happy for you," he said, though his voice sounded forced, even to him. She looked up at him in disbelief, knowing she was being lied to. "What's his face, do you love him?" he asked, almost choking on the word as it passed his lips.

"Kyle," she supplied for him with a small smile, but it faded almost immediately, "I don't know, maybe. I think I _could_ love him. He's a great guy." Her voice held all the confidence in the world, though her eyes would not meet his.

He dismissed it easily. She was simply embarrassed to be talking about this with him. It was borderline inappropriate to begin with, so Sasha nodded hoping to draw the conversation to a close for both their sakes. "Good. If you're happy, Payson, then I'm happy for you," he said, though it wasn't any more convincing than the first time he said it, of that he was sure.

She didn't seem convinced either, but she gave him a tight smile and nodded, "Thank you," she said and sighed. "I should get home before my mom sends out a search party."

He nodded, unable to speak as she moved away from him, grabbing her bag from the floor, "See you tomorrow," she said. He simply nodded again, knowing that if he opened his mouth the words that would flow over his lips were not anything she wanted or needed to hear.

Then she was gone and the full weight of what just occurred hit him like a body blow. He leaned up against the solid wall of the platform that led up to the office, sinking down to the floor, burying his head in his hands. How had he allowed this to happen? Everything was crystal clear to him now and his stomach churned. He'd always thought of himself as remarkably self-aware, but despite how obvious it seemed to him now, it hadn't even been a niggling thought in the back of his mind.

He hadn't any intention of falling in love. How could he? She was just a girl, a girl who'd placed her future in his hands. How could he have betrayed her trust like this? His only solace was that she had no idea what he was feeling, no idea the torture he'd put himself through and would continue to do so. She was happy with what's his face, with _Kyle_, falling in love with him, by her own admission. He would train her, work with her; the same way as he always had. He would gladly give her his heart and soul but instead he would bow out as gracefully as he could. She wasn't someone he could fight for. He wouldn't be able to throw his hat in the ring. He was too old for her. He was a washed up athlete with a short temper and far too much baggage both personal and professional. No, Kyle or someone like him, that's the kind of man she belonged with, the kind of man that would make her happy. If she was happy and it seemed that she was, it would be easy or at least easier for him. He would fade away and be an afterthought, a dedication on the first page of her biography perhaps, but nothing more than that.

He took a shaky breath and rested his head back against the wall, the pain in his chest sharp and constant. He hoped that it would one day fade into nothing more than a dull ache, but right now it hurt like hell. He'd been a fool to think he was in love with Summer. This was infinitely more painful than what he felt when he realized she'd chosen Steve Tanner over him. It completely dwarfed the hurt he'd felt when MJ left him for Marty Walsh. That pain was a pinch of the fingers; this, what he was feeling right now, was a knife to the gut. Deep down he knew it was because he'd truly fallen this time. It wasn't a simple infatuation or the emotion people sometimes called love because they lacked a better word. This was real and all consuming and though he wasn't one to scare easily, it frightened him to his very core because he knew that he would have to live with it for the rest of his life.

* * *

**A/N: **Oh, poor Sasha. So I don't really have anything to say because I just completely drained myself mentally and emotionally to write this damn thing. I swear my heart actually hurts for him right now. I tried to stay away from too much melodrama. My least favorite moments on the show is when Sasha gets melodramatic about feelings. He's not that kind of guy, so I hope that came through. He's pretty tough and he just realized that he's found the love of his life and he knows he can't have her. Ugh. I can't even write about it again. Please let me know what you think of this chapter.


	13. Victory

It was surreal to think that she was finally here. She'd lived her entire life for this moment, for a chance to prove that she was the best gymnast in the world. She was a two time world and national champion, but she would give away, all four victories, to be the Olympic champion. It was the only title that ever really mattered to her, Olympic gold. She already had a gold medal to her name, the team gold, but despite herself, she wanted that individual gold. Perhaps it was selfish, but while the team victory was sweet, the personal victory, her very own triumph against every obstacle that had tried to trip her up would be the ultimate accomplishment. Olympic All-Around champion and then she could walk away, dreams fulfilled.

She looked over at Kelly Parker, the other American to qualify for the All Around and smiled. It had been a long time since she considered the other girl a true rival. She was a teammate, had been for nearly two years and if Payson performed the way she should, it wouldn't even be close between them. No, the only real competition was Genghi Cho, as it had been since the moment she'd pulled herself back onto the uneven bars at the Rock, during Sasha's rogue meet. Cho watched in awe before her beam routine. Payson had seen video footage of that meet. If she wasn't mistaken, Genghi Cho wasn't just her fiercest competitor, she was also a fan and that was a huge advantage.

They were in the same rotation, yet again, with the top scorers from the preliminary rounds of the team competition. It was a familiar scene for Payson. The last two times she'd faced Cho, at the World Championships, they'd finished first and second and based solely upon degree of difficulty, that wouldn't change today. It would simply come down to who blinked first, who would make the first mistake. Payson wasn't going to let it be her.

The first rotation was floor, and Payson, having qualified in the top spot would be last. It might be the most important rotation of the day. Her degree of difficulty on the floor was the highest in the world and if she nailed this routine and Cho faltered just a little, the competition could be over in one rotation. She finished her warm-up tumbling pass and moved down to the floor to wait for her turn in the rotation. Taking a sip of water she caught Sasha's eye and there it was, the fire she relied on from her coach during competition. She nodded to him and he nodded back in mutual understanding. This was where she was at her best, when the moment called for it, when the entire world was watching. She learned it from him, to channel your focus into the big moments and this was the biggest moment of them all. Four rotations for the rest of her life.

The competition still hadn't begun, but sudden a cheer went up from the crowed. Looking up onto the big screen she saw Kyle's image as he took a sip from his bottled water. He pulled back and smiled for the camera before averting his eyes towards the floor knowing if he gave them too much they'd simply leave the camera on him.

The media frenzy hadn't been what Payson expected at all. It had been a hundred times worse. They were on the cover of newspapers and magazines all over London. If they hadn't been staying at the Olympic village, she was sure they would have been stuck inside their hotel day and night until the games were over. It was simply madness and the crazier it got, the more it simply cemented her resolve to focus on gymnastics.

That of course hadn't stopped Kyle from spending the night just after the Opening Ceremonies. She cringed inwardly thinking about how awkward everything had become afterwards.

_She lay with her head pillowed on his chest, his fingers mindlessly playing with her hair. Their breathing had evened and the air conditioning helped to cool the fervor they'd just created between them. She shivered and wordlessly he reached down to pull the blanket up over their bodies, still entangled and slightly sticky with sweat. She hummed in contentment as he pulled her closer, letting her draw warmth from his body._

_They lay in silence for a moment longer when he said, "Payson?" It was more a question than anything else so she looked up at him. "I love you." _

_And there it was, a declaration, the words every woman wanted to hear from a man like Kyle. The words the usually produced a particular response and she was sure that's what he was looking for, otherwise, why say it at all? Payson simply stared at him. She opened her mouth to answer, but the words did not come. She looked into his eyes, cerulean blue, deep and penetrating, but not the stormy and passionate gaze she longed for. She blinked, pushing that thought aside and swallowed. "Kyle," she began slowly, but no other words came to her. _

_She felt him pull away, his body shifting out from beneath hers. She moved to the side to allow him his space. "You don't feel the same." It wasn't a question._

_She winced at the hurt she could hear, plain as day in his voice. "Kyle, I...I really care about you, but those words, those words are very special and I don't just want to say them because..."_

"_Because the idiot you're in bed with said them first," he finished for her, obviously angry, but she could see it was more at himself than at her. _

_She shook her head, "That's not..." she trailed off. He was right. Maybe that wasn't how she would have phrased it, but he was right. "I'm sorry," she said finally, biting her lip, feeling terrible. This was her fault. She should have seen this coming, but she hadn't and now she couldn't rewind and take it back. _

She blinked out of the memory to see Sasha standing in front of her expectantly, "Payson?" he said, his tone reminding her of Kyle's just before he'd said those words. She shook her head. _Focus, Keeler_, she told herself.

"You're up," Sasha said, though it was unnecessary. She could see Genghi Cho wrapping up her routine, saluting and then waving to the crowd. Payson stood up and nodded to Sasha, her mind now firmly upon her floor routine. She could feel the fire coursing through her veins and then suddenly ice. The world slowed down. The sounds of the arena drowned out to a low hum as she climbed the steps up to the floor. She waited for the judges to signal her and then she was down on the mat, pushing up, blooming into the flower Sasha had asked her to become. She let her instincts take over as she felt her body become almost weightless, floating through the air and then powerful as she took to her tumbling passes. There was no thought, no sense of the moment, she almost felt detached from her body, watching herself complete the routine, lowering back down to the mat and then like a vacuum, the world around her became solid again, the noise was deafening as she saluted and ran off the floor with an enthusiastic wave of her arms to the crowd.

She skipped down the stairs and saw Sasha standing there waiting for her. "Wow," he whispered with a small crooked smile playing upon his face, his stormy grey eyes twinkling at her in approval. She nodded and broke off from his gaze as they embraced. "Three more like that and you've got it. Vault next," he said, handing her wrist guards as the girls in her rotation were lining up with their bags to move on to the next rotation.

They walked away from the floor, following the staff member responsible for leading their rotation. She looked up into the crowd, knowing most of the American seats were located by the vault and she immediately caught Kyle's eye. He smiled tightly and she tried to smile back, but she was sure it looked more like a grimace. She couldn't help it. She was pretty sure it was over. He was in love with her and at this point, she didn't see herself falling in love with him. It had been almost a year and she cared about him deeply, she liked being around him, she was intensely attracted to him, but that was it. It had been all too easy to fall into bed with him, a decision that she probably should regret, but didn't. Her first time had been awkward, but wonderful and sweet. While she'd heard women had a tendency to fall in love with the first man they slept with, Payson was sure she didn't love Kyle, at least not the way he loved her. It simply wasn't fair to him. She thought he knew it was over as well. They'd fallen asleep in that bed after lapsing into an uncomfortable silence, but when her eyes flickered open hours later he was gone.

She was shocked he'd shown up today, though it probably had more to do with his agent and sponsors than with her. People expected him to be there, so he came and she wasn't about to read anymore into it than that. In fact, she preferred that be the reason.

She got to the end of the line for the vault warm ups and found him again in the crowd, signing autographs for fans. She saw a number of them had their copy of Sports Illustrated. She'd signed hundreds of those during the week leading up to the gymnastics competition.

She ran through her vault, landing it, though shakily and as she moved back down towards Sasha he shot her a concerned glance.

"I'm fine," she said and he nodded, placing his hand on her shoulder lightly, his calloused thumb landing gently on the nape of her neck. A small shudder ran through her body and she pulled away, closing her eyes, visualizing her vault, the amount of force she needed off the springboard, the tension in her body, the give of the mats, her feet landing firmly. She opened her eyes and saw he was still standing there, looking concerned. "I'm fine," she repeated and that old tension was back, like the night she'd gone to find him in Cambria, a swirl of emotions that bound them together, though intangibly.

He nodded, "Good," he said, brushing past her, setting every nerve ending her body on edge.

_Focus, Keeler_, she thought again as she settled into one of the seats to wait her turn. The vault had once been one of her strengths and though her DOD was high, it definitely was no longer her best event. She needed to land clean and focus on bars and beam, it was that simple. _Stay on your feet, just stay on your feet, nail this thing and then slam the door on the rest of them._

She did, landing the vault solidly with her legs pressed together, full tension in her body, arms raised in the air. The crowd cheered again and she smiled in response, trying to soak this up while she could. This was her last all-around competition and then there was nothing quite like it, the drama building through each rotation, the roar of the crowd as they recognized a great routine, their reaction growing steadily as they saw who was pulling ahead, standing out from the rest of the pack.

She looked up into the stands and quickly found Kyle again. He was applauding with the rest of the crowd. She nodded to him, but he didn't acknowledge her this time. It was over. He stood and moved out of the seat, not looking back as he moved up the stairs and out of the arena, out of her life as well, if she had to guess.

"Halfway through," a voice murmured in her ear as she set her bag down on a chair near the uneven bars. She looked up at the scoreboard and saw she was ahead, though by how much she didn't want or need to know. Her eyes darted up towards Sasha who stood just next to her. The weight of his hand was suddenly upon her shoulder, his fingers brushing gently against her neck. "Let's go," he said, handing her the grips and moving away from her as she sat down and stared at the bars allowing her mind to go blank before she closed her eyes to visualize her routine, but instead she caught a familiar sent as someone walked past her, she inhaled slowly and she knew that scent. _Sasha_, she mused remembering how the smell lingered on his pillow in the cabin in Cambria, how it lulled her into a sense of peace and security just as it did now. His face appeared in her mind's eye, handsome features, the strong jaw line and those eyes; they'd always drawn her in, made her feel protected and powerful all at once. Intoxicating, that was what he was, making her forget herself, forget what was going on around her, like that night when she'd kissed him, she hadn't planned it, hadn't even felt the urge coming until she was looking up at him, his eyes burning into hers with pride and excitement and then he was pushing her away before she even realized what happened.

That was the end of the beginning, as far as their relationship was concerned. After that things spiraled and it wasn't long until Payson hit her low point, despite making the World Championship team. The accomplishment seemed empty without him. He was her rock, the one port in a storm that raged around her and so she'd gone after him, despite his touching letter explaining why he'd left in the first place. It had enraged her at first, but then as the horrible reality began to set in, that he was really gone and not coming back, that's when she knew she had to go after him. And that's when it all started, really, in those moments in his cabin, the electricity, the fire, it all began that night.

Payson opened her eyes and he was standing there, leaning up against the podium, completely ignoring the gymnast competing on the bars behind him, looking at her, that same intensity radiating between them. How could he be oblivious to it, ignore it so completely? Maybe it was just her, maybe she was just so totally and completely infatuated that it didn't matter how he felt about her. Her breathing became ragged and she closed her eyes, breaking off the eye contact, trying to clear her head.

This was the Olympics and she had to focus.

A few cleansing breaths later and her mind was blissfully blank, though the adrenaline coursing through her veins was enough to power her through one of the best bars sets of her life. As her feet landed solidly on the mat, no hop, not even a small bend in her knee.

"Yes!" she heard from just off the mat where she knew Sasha was standing. She ran into his arms, feeling him lift her off the ground. "Excellent," he said, the adrenaline obviously pumping for him as well. He set her down and she felt his hands cup her face gently. He pressed his lips to her forehead and her eyes shut as she grasped his wrists lightly. He pulled back and smiled down at her, a smile she returned and then pulled away.

"One more," she said, looking him directly in the eye

Sasha nodded, "One more."

The balance beam, it would of course be the final rotation, arguably the most difficult of all the events, it was what separated the true all-around competitor from the rest of the pack. Four inches wide and those four inches would determine the next Olympic champion. Payson placed her bag down on a chair and stretched out. She turned and saw Kelly Parker moving towards her with a smile. Parker nodded up towards the leader board and Payson followed her gaze.

"Wow," she said and almost laughed. "Almost like old times." Payson had paid little attention to the rest of the competition, but she assumed somewhere along the time Genghi Cho had opened the door and Kelly Parker in her usual fashion had kicked the damn door in. If they both hit their routines they would go one-two, gold and silver, just like Nastia and Shawn in Beijing. It would be an incredible accomplishment.

Kelly had the grace to smile and shrug, "Almost, except your name is above mine. Good luck."

Payson smiled, "You too."

"You ready for this?" another voice said from just behind her.

"I was born for this," she said and though it was cliché, she believed it.

She felt him move next to her, the back of his hand lightly brushing against the skin of her forearm. She felt a snap of electricity and smiled. There it was again, that connection. It was what made her into the gymnast capable of this victory. She knew it in that moment, as she looked up and saw him, not looking at her, staring out over the arena, inscrutable, as always, but she knew. She was in love with Sasha Belov, hopelessly and completely in love with him. In fact, she'd always been in love with him, since the moment he sat next to her outside of the Rock, explaining gently why she hadn't ruined things between them and that he trusted her. She'd loved him when he wrote that letter saying why he had to leave and when she dragged him back after he'd left, thinking he'd done what was best for them all. She loved him when he helped her choose a dress for the ESPY Awards and when she sat with him in a hospital waiting room after his father died. She loved him in a way she didn't fully understand, with her entire being. The realization should have unsteadied her, perhaps given her pause, but the only emotion she felt was relief. Even if he didn't feel the same way, even if his love was platonic, the love of a coach for his athlete, it was a weight off her shoulders to finally acknowledge the thing she'd known and harbored for a long time deep within herself. She was in love and not only that, she was going to win.

She moved off to the side and closed her eyes, visualizing the beam below her feet. She ran through the motions of her routine and then joined the other girls up on the actual beam to warm up before she sat back down for the interminable wait. She would be the final competitor of the day. Payson sat back in the chair and closed her eyes, letting the crowd noise fade away, all of her thoughts, Kyle, Sasha, her teammates, her parents, everything fading to the background. This moment, it belonged to her.

* * *

Payson's room at the Olympic Village was small, but it looked so much larger now that it was clean, everything packed away ready to go. Their flight back to the States was the next evening, after the Closing Ceremonies. Everyone else was out celebrating or attending one last event. The games were winding down and everyone was trying to soak up as much of the atmosphere as possible, but tonight Payson had a mission. She knew things would get crazy once they arrived home. There would be a press tour and more insanity than she could possibly imagine, so she had to do this tonight. She put the small bag she carried over her shoulder and made her way down the hallway. They'd assigned rooms in the Olympic Village by sport and the entirety of the USA gymnastics program was housed on one floor. She moved five doors down from her own and knocked gently, not sure if she should expect an answer, but there he was, looking for all the world like the man who'd answered the door in Cambria as the rain poured down around her, confusion lining his expression.

"Payson, I thought you were going out with the other girls. What are you doing here?" Sasha asked. "You should be out celebrating."

She lifted her hands, holding up the bottle of champagne and two plastic flutes, she raised her eyebrows. "We are going to celebrate," she said, a soft smile playing upon her lips. She saw his eyebrows lift in interest and then a smirk played across his face before he stepped back to allow her into his room.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, so obviously I'm feeling this fic right now. It's rolling along pretty well. Just a few more chapters, no more than four or five including an epilogue and it'll be done. Hope you all enjoyed this. Obviously we'll be meeting up with Sasha in the next chapter. I'll give a small hint; we pick up about twenty minutes BEFORE Payson knocks on his door. *grins evilly* Going to be an interesting night.


	14. Surrender

For all intents and purposes, it was over. The London games as far as gymnastics was concerned had come to an end. And what an end it had been. Sasha sat back on his bed, hands laced behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. Expectations were high coming into the games, but the girls, _his_ girls had met them. The Rock girls took up four of the six spots on the American squad that won the first team gold since 1996 and there were a ton of individual accomplishments. Lauren Tanner, silver on the beam, Emily Kmetko, silver on bars, Kaylie Cruz bronze on the floor and then there was Payson.

Payson Keeler, the new Olympic All-Around champion and the gold medalist on the floor, beam and bars. She passed his four gold medal total on the last day of competition during the beam event finals. She ran off the podium to the roar of the crowd and embraced him, the tears finally flowing, a sense of both joy and relief obvious across her face.

"_You did it," he said, holding her close to him. His heart was pounding and he was sure she could hear it, her ear pressed up against his chest._

"_No, we did it," she said, pulling back with a shake of her head, but not leaving his embrace. "Thank you, Sasha. Thank you for everything."_

"_It's been my honor," he said, "my honor and privilege, Payson." They stood there for a moment, just holding each other and Sasha realized as they both stepped back that it may be the last time he would ever hold her in his arms. He let the idea wash over him and it settled on his shoulders like a hundred pound weight. His stomach twisted painfully and he hoped she couldn't read the pain in his expression. She stood just in front of him, a smile still beaming across her face, tears streaming paths over the smoothness of her cheeks. Sasha reached up and brushed a tear away. "Thank you, Payson." _

In reality he'd been saying goodbye, knowing that after that moment, he was no longer her coach. She was retiring, she'd said it over and over again and thus he had very little place in her life. He honestly didn't have any plans. He supposed he could stay on at the Rock. He was after all a gymnastics coach. It was a part of his blood and after the results from these Olympics he was sure to draw high quality athletes, juniors from all over the country who wanted to be the next Payson Keeler. That was the problem however. There would never be another Payson Keeler. It was possible she'd ruined him as a coach, completely spoiled by her abilities and her willingness to do whatever it took to win. He supposed he'd have to get over it. After all, he wasn't exactly qualified to do much else and despite the aggravation and the politics, it was what he loved. So, he'd stay in Boulder, coach at the Rock and pine for her like a lovesick pup?

_Maybe the first two_, he thought to himself with a sigh. He had to get past this, move on. It simply wasn't going to happen. The gap between them was far too wide. Even if she wasn't in love with someone else, he was sixteen years older than her, almost twice her age. It was insane, not that it mattered, because she was in love with someone else. Someone much more _appropriate_ for her. The word made him cringe. He felt like a dirty, old man lusting after an eighteen year old girl, wanting her as much as he did, and he wanted her, he wanted her badly. He knew there was a time when she wanted him too, two years ago, that kiss, back during a time when his thoughts had never moved in that direction, never even considered the idea of having feelings for one of his gymnasts. It was unconscionable and bloody crap timing. He shouted after her that night as she ran away and to this day he had no idea what he would have said.

He sighed, running a hand through his short hair in frustration. He had to get past this thing. He was a disciplined man, he'd gone without things he wanted in the past, it was just that he'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted her. The physical attraction, it was overwhelming at times and he knew she felt it too or at least she was aware of _something _between them. He'd never actually felt sparks fly with a woman until the moment his hand touched hers that night in his cabin. It was such a shock that for a moment he'd forgotten who it was sitting across from him and he leaned in fractionally, on instinct, wanting to close the distance between them, before his good sense took over and kept him back. Since then, however, it felt like there was a tangible, physical link between them and it was a near constant in their relationship. Maybe the distance would help. For the first time since he'd known her he wouldn't be spending almost every waking hour in her presence. No, he knew that wouldn't help, it would probably make things worse. Right now he loved her, all of her, flaws and all, but once the distance took hold he would build her up in his mind into perfection and then he would be lost entirely.

He shook his head. This wasn't who he was. He wasn't a man who lost himself to anything, even gymnastics; it had never held this kind of power over him. He'd always been in control of it, but this, this was something else entirely, something he couldn't control. He knew if he could, he'd stop it, but then again maybe not, because as torturous as it was, as horrible as he felt, he knew he was a better man for loving her, even if she would never love him back.

Sasha rubbed a hand over his face. He had to stop thinking about this. His mind had been occupied over the last two weeks, the Olympics a sufficient distraction, but now he had all the time in the world to ponder his sad situation. He needed a distraction. That would be easy enough back in Boulder, he would throw himself into his work, start recruiting new gymnasts as soon as possible. _That's right, if you stay distracted you just might forget her. _He snorted. _Okay, okay, maybe not forget her, but maybe this pain in your chest might go away, at least for a little while._

He was startled out of his reverie by a quiet knock on his door. He stood and opened the door mechanically, not expecting anyone, but not all that curious who was on the other side. He blinked, thinking that he was imagining the sight before him. Payson Keeler, a soft looking Payson Keeler, not in a leotard or training apparel, hair pulled into a tight bun, but wearing shorts and a tshirt, her long hair hanging down her back, some falling over her shoulder in a blonde wave. She looked up at him and smiled and his breath caught in his throat, but he somehow forced words out, "Payson, I thought you were going out with the other girls. What are you doing here?" He did his best to look stern, but he knew his confusion was probably shining through. "You should be celebrating."

"We are celebrating," she said as she held up a bottle of champagne in one hand and two plastic champagne flutes in the other. Sasha's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he smirked. A smile flashed across her face, a knowing smile, the smile of a woman who knew what she wanted and obviously she wanted to be here.

He stepped back to allow her into his room and closed the door behind her, shaking his head. "Where did you find champagne?" he asked. He was still half stunned she was really there with him, but somehow it made sense.

She laughed lightly, smiling at him, "This place has everything," she said, "including a liquor store."

He took the bottle of champagne from her and watched as she put her bag down on the table and held out the flutes towards him. He unwrapped the foil at the top and popped the cork, a small wave of amber liquid spilling from the top, catching his wrist.

"Whoa," he said, "Towel?" he asked, nodding towards the door to her right. He held the bottle out away from his body a little as she laughed and ran into his bathroom.

He quickly filled their glasses and placed the bottle down on the table as she came back into the room, holding out a washcloth. She wiped at his wrist and then took a glass from him, still smiling.

"What should we toast to?" she asked and he considered her for a moment. She stood there studying him, her smile fading, watching him closely and he found himself mirroring her. The silence was heavy around them, but not uncomfortable.

"To you, I think," Sasha said, tilting his head and smiling at her gently. "To your victory."

She looked down at her glass and then back up at him, "No, to us," she said. "We made a pretty good team, don't you think?" Her voice seemed oddly strained. It seemed there was something else she wanted to say, but was holding back.

He decided to give her and out, "To us then," he said, raising his glass towards her, though the words were difficult to force past his lips. In reality there was no _us, _it was him and her and they were very much _separate._

"To us," she echoed and they both took a long draught from their glasses. He looked at her and then at his own glass and wordlessly refilled them both. She smiled at him shakily and took a seat in one of the armchairs in the room, kicking off her flip-flops and sliding her legs beneath her. He took the chair opposite her, settling deep into it, his legs extended out in front of him, crossed casually at the ankles.

They sat in that same silence for a while, sipping from their glasses more slowly this time, avoiding eye contact. Sasha took a chance and looked towards her. She was studying table just to her left, eyeing the patterns in the wood as if they would tell her something if she looked hard enough. She was beautiful; the light in the room shadowy and golden, it reflected off her hair, shimmering at him, her skin practically glowed.

_What is she doing here?_ _Why isn't she out with her friends, out with what's his face? _Then it hit him like a ton of bricks. _She's saying goodbye_. He was thankful in that moment that he was already sitting down because the realization would have been enough to buckle his knees.

Suddenly, her eyes flashed to hers. She caught him studying her, but he didn't look away. Their eyes met, finally and there it was again, that electricity, the connection that always went unacknowledged, until now as she smiled and shook her head. "It never fails," she said quietly and he nodded just once in agreement.

"Every time," he said and smiled in return, watching her as she bit her lip in thought.

"So, I brought something with me, _somethings_ actually," she said with a smile, lifting her bag from the table and one by one took out her gold medals placing them gently on the table and finally, his. The thick, dark red ribbon that held it was fading a little, twelve years old now. She weighed it in her hand and then closed her fingers around it. "I don't know if you remember…"

He smiled, "I remember. A fair trade?"

She nodded, "A fair trade," she said, picking up her all-around gold medal and handing it over to him. He took it and studied it for a moment before standing and putting it into his suitcase, packed, but still open on the luggage rack. "You're not really going back to Cambria, are you?" she asked.

He turned and shook his head, "No, gymnastics is my life and the Rock, it's become my home," he said, returning to his seat, taking another swig of champagne

"Good," she said, then she sighed and followed his lead, sipping her drink again, "You've been in love, right?" she asked and his eyebrows leapt up in surprise. _Where is she going with this?_

He leaned forward. He rested his elbows on his thighs and pressed his lips together, considering for a moment whether he should be honest with her. "Yeah, I have," he said, "I thought I was a couple of times, but there was this one woman…" he trailed off, afraid he would say too much.

Payson nodded and sighed, "Right," she said, oblivious to his hesitancy, gesturing vaguely with her hands, "and there's supposed to be certain things that go along with it, when you're in love, you care about the other person and you want the best for them and you're attracted to them and," she paused and took another long sip from her glass, before holding it out for a refill. He filled it and nodded at her to continue, taking a sip from his own glass, "and the sex is incredible, right or at least you know it would be?"

Sasha coughed, the bubbles from the champagne shooting up his nose. He couldn't help it, it was just too surreal. He heard her try to cover up her slip of the tongue, but the words were already spoken. He couldn't help it, despite himself, he started to laugh and he looked up at her to see she was biting her lip, trying to hold her own laughter in.

"It's not funny," she said, her shoulders shaking now in an effort to remain serious. "I'm asking you a question. Sasha," she pleaded, pouting in a way he could only describe as adorably.

He nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to calm himself down enough to answer her. "Yes," he said, "all those things."

Payson broke off eye contact finally, looking past him, out his window which had a spectacular view of the city, "There should be something else though, right?"

"Something else?" he asked, furrowing his brow at her. What else did she expect? He felt that knot in his stomach, the pain he'd been feeling for weeks now, the one he'd been able to ignore until just a few hours ago; it was sharpening by the moment.

She nodded, "Something else, something you can't explain, just a feeling, _knowing_, like when you've hit a routine perfectly, no bend in your knees on the dismount, in that moment before you raise your hands in the air for the judges, that moment just for you and you know it was perfect. Like that."

He swallowed harshly, trying to keep his face neutral. The words were eerily familiar, words spoken to him by his coach, Nicolai years ago, but Nicolai had been speaking about gymnastics, not about love. Then in his mind's eye he could see the old man, the salt and pepper hair, the dark eyes and the rare smile, _"You just know, Sasha. You know in the way a man knows he's found the woman he will marry. You know in the same way you feel when you've hit a routine perfectly. You just know." _That's what his old coach told him that night and it was those words that hit home the night Payson arrived in Cambria to bring him back to Boulder. He just knew.

"Sasha?" she asked, reaching out and touching his knee gently, drawing him back from the memory. The soft pressure of her touch drew his eyes to her hand. The urge to place his hand over hers was coursing through his veins, but he managed to quash it.

He took in the curious expression on her face and nodded, "Yes, Payson, there is something else, that feeling, just knowing, like you said. There's that too."

She sat back and he immediately felt the loss. "I thought so," she said, biting her lip and shaking her head.

"You okay?" he asked, but it seemed she didn't hear him, she just looked away towards the wall and he watched her swallow harshly, "Payson," he said, leaning forward and reaching out, touching her knee gently. She shook her head quickly and took a deep breath, exhaling sharply. She turned towards him with a soft smile. "So you're in love?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

She nodded, "I am. I'm in love."

He smiled, hoping she didn't recognize how forced it was, "And he loves you back," he said.

Payson shrugged before shaking her head quickly, "No, he doesn't," she said quietly.

Sasha's mind reeled at the information. For a moment he was speechless, not sure he'd heard her correctly. "Then he's a complete idiot."

She smiled, "That's sweet, Sasha, but he's not. He's actually, he's amazing, the most wonderful man I know, the most wonderful man I will ever know, but he doesn't love me back and I've accepted that." She downed the last of her champagne quickly.

"He told you he doesn't love you?" Sasha asked and then winced realizing it probably wasn't something she wanted to rehash.

She looked at him sideways and rolled her eyes lightly, "I've known for a while. It's that something else, that knowing, it's missing for him, I think."

"Wow," he said, shaking his head again in disbelief, "what a bloody moron letting you get away," he muttered, not sure if she would hear him, but she did.

"Thanks, Sasha, but really he's not, he just doesn't love me like that."

"No, really, a bloody moron," he said, chugging the last of his champagne. "You'll find someone one day, I promise."

She smiled at him, "Maybe, but I think that I won't love him, whoever he is, not really, there would always be that something missing because…" she trailed off. "I'm not making any sense, just ignore me."

He looked at her and for the first time that night he really saw her, saw how utterly sad she was. It wasn't right. "Payson," he began, not sure of what he was about to say. Their eyes met again and there it was again, that same tension, the pull he felt from his body towards hers. He was standing in front of her, not sure when he'd moved from his chair. She looked up at him and the sadness was in her eyes. He reached out and cupped her cheek gently, stroking the soft skin. Her hand came up to his, her fingers slipping around his, entwining their hands as she stood. She was so close now, close enough to feel her warm breath against his face as she looked up at him.

Slowly, allowing her enough time to pull away, step back, do something to prevent his lips from reaching hers, he leaned in, closer and closer still. He paused, hovering for just a moment, but she didn't hesitate.

It was just a soft brush of the lips at first and then that fire, that intensity and passion which swirled and built between them for years came bubbling to the surface as their mouths caressed each other, tongues dancing slowly. He drew her close, pulling her body gently into his, but it seemed she had other ideas. She pushed up against him, one hand still joined with his, the other caressing the back of his neck, keeping him close. She pulled away just slightly as his hand released hers, holding her hips against his. Their eyes met. "Just one night," she whispered against his lips. "And then I'll let go." It sounded like a promise, one he didn't understand.

"One night," he agreed, as his hands moved beneath the hem of her shirt, caressing the soft skin at the small of her back, his thumbs stroking against the tiny, faded scars, making her shiver in his arms. And as her lips pressed up against his once again, somewhere in the back of his champagne soaked mind, he knew that it wouldn't be enough.

* * *

**A/N: **Wow, so these two can really talk in circles, not that the champagne helped. ;-) We're almost there…so close and yet so far. Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think.


	15. Change

Payson opened her eyes and stared at the stark white ceiling. It was early, far too early to be awake, especially on a Sunday. She had nowhere to be for hours, all day really if you didn't count the vague lunch date she'd made with her mother the day before. The paper she had due for her class the next day was sitting typed up in Times New Roman, twelve point font, with one inch margins as the professor had specified over and over again to their freshman English class. Apparently he suspected most of the class incapable of following simple instructions, Payson had similar suspicions. Maybe she was a being a snob, she knew most of the young men and women surrounding her at CU Boulder probably thought it on more than one occasion. She wasn't a snob, far from it. She just had absolutely nothing in common with them, with most people her own age. She sighed, rolling over, tucking her hands beneath her cheek, trying to force herself back to sleep, but it was useless.

It was her body clock. It was set to jerk her awake if she wasn't already conscious by five in the morning. An internal fail safe, letting her know she should be in the gym and not snuggled warmly under her covers. She opened her eyes again and saw them, all five of them, mocking her from her desk. Five mahogany boxes, lined up neatly. She shut her eyes again, but only for a moment. She'd seen the boxes and the boxes meant gymnastics and her gold medals and _him_. And that part of her life was over.

Her mother kept repeating it, over and over again, much like her English professor had with the format of their paper, this was a new chapter of her life, _after gymnastics_. She always said it like it was some major historical event like _after_ the birth of Christ or _after _9/11. It made Payson's stomach turn. She knew it was over. She had plenty of experience accepting that she would have a life after gymnastics and at least this time around she'd left on her own terms, but it didn't make the transition any less difficult.

The months following the Olympics were mostly a blur. They arrived home from London and were greeted like conquering heroes, which in some ways they were. The men's and women's teams had won an astounding number of medals and she and Austin Tucker were the first American man and woman to win the Olympic All-Around gold since Paul Hamm and Carly Patterson in 2004. Post-Olympic fever took hold across the states during their press tour from New York to Los Angeles, morning shows, late night shows, talk shows; the list went on and on. Plus, they'd committed to a two month exhibition tour. It was grueling, completely and utterly exhausting, but it kept her busy, kept her mind off other things, off _him. _She'd won five gold medals, but all anyone wanted to ask about was Kyle Gibbs, so much so that half the time they didn't even notice that one of her medals didn't match the others, though when they'd asked, she'd told the story. They all smiled politely and transitioned back to Kyle or her back injury without a second thought.

Kyle had noticed too, of course he had. He loved her, so he would notice something out of place, especially something as obvious as a thick red ribbon nestled between the deep purple of the other four. She saw him at the White House of all places, President Obama invited all the medal winners to visit, take a picture and have the opportunity to shake his hand. It was on Payson's short list of _very big deals_, but of course at the reception afterwards, not long after the President excused himself, likely to do something much more important than shake her hand, Kyle found her.

"_Hey you," he said, from behind her, but she recognized his voice immediately. She turned and saw him, four medals hanging around his neck, two gold and two silver. They all wore their medals for the photo and not having anywhere to put them, simply kept them around their necks for the reception, though she had to admit, they were starting to weigh her down a little bit._

"_Hey," she said, sighing heavily._

_He winced and grinned, "Don't contain your enthusiasm, Pay," he said, though his tone was light. _

"_Sorry," she said, biting her lower lip and shrugging. "I just…this is awkward, Kyle." _

_Kyle nodded, his grin not disappearing, "More so for me than for you, I think. I'm the one who spilled my guts, told you I loved you and got zilch in return, remember?" _

_It was her turn to wince, "Kyle," she began, but then shrugged in defeat. She didn't know what she could say to make it better. It was over, they both knew it, but obviously he needed some closure. _

"_It's fine, Payson," he said, giving her an out. He really was a good guy. "What's with the medal, though?" He nodded towards the red ribbon in the center of her collection, nestled just between her breasts. _

"_Oh, um, it's a long story," she said, her fingers instinctively covering the medal, weighing it in the palm of her hand, the contours familiar and comforting against her fingertips. _

"_It looks like a Sydney medal," he said. Of course he would know that, he was just like her, Olympics obsessed since they were kids. _

_Payson nodded and shrugged. Obviously he was curious enough and it wasn't like it was a secret. "It is, it belonged to my coach, Sasha. He sort of gave it to me, on loan when I was starting my comeback. He said I could hold onto his until I could replace it with one of my own. I don't know how it happened, we were talking later and I told him I'd kind of grown attached to it, so he said I could keep it, but I'd have to give him one of mine in exchange. So I did. I have his all-around medal and he has mine." _

_Kyle nodded, but his eyes were burning into hers. She felt completely exposed suddenly and wasn't at all prepared for what he said next, "I get it now," he murmured. "It's him isn't it?"_

_She shook her head, pretending to not understand, but she'd never been a very good actress. _

_Kyle rolled his eyes, "C'mon, Pay. I know you. I love you. He's the reason you don't love me back. You fell in love with your coach." The pain washed through her, pain she'd been steadfastly avoiding in the weeks since the games, since she'd slipped out of his bed the morning of the closing ceremonies and barely uttered a full sentence to him since._

"_Kyle," she said, looking up at him, meeting his eye and he must have read the pain there because he looked away, before nodding just once._

"_He's a lucky guy," he said and she tried to correct him, tried to tell him that Sasha didn't care about her the way she cared about him, but he'd already turned and walked away._

That's how they left it and that was as official as their break-up was going to get. There were times, usually when she was feeling particularly pathetic, when she thought about calling him. If he loved her maybe he wouldn't mind that she didn't love him back. There was no chance she would ever be with Sasha, not now and not ever, not after how they'd left things, but then her good sense would over power her. It wasn't fair to Kyle and it wasn't fair to her.

So despite the mundane monotony of her life, it was a complete and utter mess. She knew her parents didn't really notice. They thought this was simply her way of dealing with this transition from abnormal to normal, moving from the intense world of elite gymnastics to the serene life of a college co-ed, but she knew it was simply this, she loved him and he didn't love her back and slowly but surely, it was killing her.

Giving up after another half hour of tossing and turning, she slid from beneath the covers and looked around for her running sneakers. A good run, loud music, hopefully it would clear her mind or at least exhaust her to the point where she would come home and be able to get a few more hours of sleep.

The path was familiar, long, winding pavement nearly a mile up overlooking the city of Boulder. She remembered another morning, a lot like this one, chilly, a distinct bite in the air when they met on this path, ran together…maybe this was a bad idea.

She shook her head firmly. She needed to move on with her life and there were memories of him all around the city of Boulder. She couldn't just avoid these places simply because he'd once occupied the same space. She planted her ear buds firmly into her ears and fiddled with her iPod for a moment before setting off at a leisurely jog, allowing her lungs to readjust to the cold mountain air.

She was halfway up the hill, setting a steady pace along one of the few flat stretches of the winding path when she saw him. Payson wasn't sure if she believed in a higher power, but whatever was up there had a hell of a sense of humor. He wasn't jogging, he was sprinting, the sweat was running over his forehead, his legs carrying him towards her so quickly there was no way to avoid his notice, though she did eye some spindly looking bushes for a moment, weighing the pain of diving into it over the awkwardness that was about to surround her.

Then the decision was made for her as she watched him, stumble out of his sprint, pulling up lightly favoring his left knee, "Shit," she heard him curse and then he looked up, spotting her. She watched his roll his eyes heavenward. It seemed he had similar thoughts about the universe amusing itself at their expense.

"You okay?" she asked, approaching slowly, pulling out her earbuds, letting them dangle around her neck. Those were the first real words she'd spoken to him beyond the awkward goodbye at the airport when their paths diverged after a flight from London to New York.

_The entire Rock community was standing at the arrivals gate in JFK Airport, everyone hovering not sure what to do. The athletes were staying in New York with some NGO officials, their agents and a few chaperones for the underage members of the team, their coaches, friends and family would all be headed towards different flights, taking them home. Payson hugged her parents and her sister. It would be awhile until she saw them again, but the entire time she was aware of him. He was hugging Emily, whispering something to the new Olympic silver medalist on bars. _

_She pulled away from Becca at the moment he pulled away from Emily and their eyes met. Immediately she was back in the Olympic village, his strong hands caressing over her body, his lips burning paths of fire over her skin, every fiber of her being consumed by his touch. She was sitting astride him; their bodies joined intimately, their skin slick with perspiration, her breasts crushed against the firm muscle of his chest. Their foreheads rested together, his mouth against her neck, hands splayed across her back as they rocked together. She'd come apart in his arms only moments later, but it was that moment that stood out. She'd never felt more protected and safe, like nothing in the world could touch her than she had in that moment. And now, that feeling was gone, replaced by a hollow barrenness in her chest. _

_They both hovered for just a moment before he took a step closer and put his arms around her. She hesitated for a split second before resting her hands against his back. Neither of them spoke a word, they simply held each other for a moment, and then pulled away, not too quickly or slowly, nothing that would give away anything to anyone watching. Then he was gone, down the terminal towards his connecting flight and she was headed to baggage claim, silently, listening to everyone chatter happily around her. _

He met her eyes for a moment, but the pain seemed to overpower any other emotion they held. He was grimacing now, keeping his weight off his knee, bending at the waist to examine it. "You okay?" she repeated and he looked up and shook his head.

"No, I heard it pop," he said, his voice pushing out from between clenched teeth. He was obviously in a lot of pain, especially for him to admit it so openly.

"Come on," she said, stepping closer to him, reaching out to touch his arm. The moment her finger tips found his shoulder, the electricity snapped between them. She wanted to chalk it up to the static electricity in the cold air, but she knew that wasn't the case. Sparks flew between them and had for a long time. She ignored it and helped him back into a standing position.

They moved slowly back down the hill, her arms around his waist, holding firmly, her shoulder supporting as much of his weight as she could, his hand clutching her shoulder for balance. They walked in silence until they reached her car. She looked around for his, but didn't see it.

"Where's the truck?" she asked.

He shook his head, "I ran here."

"From the Rock? Sasha, that's almost ten miles on that knee –"

"I don't need a lecture, Payson," he snapped, his eyes avoiding hers and then he sighed. "Could you give me a ride back?"

The silence reigned again as they drove through the city of Boulder, becoming almost painfully awkward at stop signs and traffic lights. She glanced at him once, only to find him already looking at her. They both quickly averted their eyes.

It was at that moment she decided they were being ridiculous. They lived in the same city, her mom still worked at the Rock, Becca still trained there. They were going to see each other, _a lot._

"Does it need surgery?" she asked, breaking the silence and drawing his eyes to her. She didn't need to look, she simply felt his gaze.

"It will, eventually, when I have time," he admitted, massaging the knee lightly.

She pulled into the Rock parking lot and got out of the car. "Do you have your keys?" she asked, walking around to help him out. "I can wrap it for you in the trainer's room."

"I have to shower first," he mumbled and she looked at him oddly before realizing that he really did. He'd run more than ten miles, he was pretty disgusting and any wrapping she did now would just have to be redone after a shower.

She nodded, "That's okay. I'll just entertain myself here," she said as they moved into the Rock and she eyed her old gym, smiling in quiet nostalgia. She hadn't been back since her final training session there before the Olympics. The smell of mat cleaner and chalk invaded her nose and she smiled_. Home_, was the only thought that crossed her mind.

She watched him hobble away from her, into the men's locker room. She briefly wondered if he would need any help, but shook her head. That would just be too awkward for words. She wandered the gym slowly. It was smaller than she remembered. She recalled the first day she'd entered the Rocky Mountain Gymnastics Club, after a long recruitment by Marty Walsh, it had seemed so much bigger. After he'd seen her come in second at Nationals as a junior in her first attempt, he promised her the next year she'd win as a junior and from there the sky would be the limit. Marty hadn't lasted, but his promise had. She looked over at the wall and there it was, a banner, one of the many she had in this gym: Payson Keeler, 2012 Olympic Champion Team, All-Around, Balance Beam, Floor Exercise, Uneven Bars. The other girls had banners too, though none with as many titles on them.

Impulsively, she toed off her sneakers and pushed herself up onto the beam. No one expected her to win gold on that event, but at the last minute after the Olympic trials, Sasha had insisted she could do it, if she added a slightly more difficult aerial set, increasing her degree of difficulty just enough, without completely disturbing the rhythm of her routine. It worked beautifully and after nailing her routine, she edged out Genghi Cho for the title on that apparatus. She unzipped the running jacket she had on and tossed it down to the mat on top of her shoes. Switch leaps, walk-overs, handsprings, over and over again, back and forth across the four inches.

Finally, she sighed and jumped down, not trusting her rusty body to complete her traditional dismount. It had been months since she'd trained properly. She placed her hands back on the beam and sighed, closing her eyes, visualizing that routine one last time.

"It never goes away."

She turned to face him, his voice disturbing her reverie, "I didn't think it would," she said. "Come on, let's wrap up your knee."

He was walking better now, the hot water had probably eased some of the pain, but she knew that was temporary, it would swell if he didn't wrap it. She looked over at him, wearing a fresh t-shirt and jeans. "Take off your pants," she said, her tone holding no nonsense. Sasha raised his eyebrows at her, but she rolled her eyes, "It's nothing I haven't seen before, Belov," she said, surprised at herself that she could joke about it.

He snorted softly, obviously caught between amusement and embarrassment, but he did as he was told, pushing his jeans down his legs and sitting on the trainer's table in his boxer briefs. She examined his knee carefully, before pulling on some pre-wrap, followed by a thicker ace bandage. "So when are you going to have time to get that surgery?" she said, wrapping the bandage precisely around his knee cap so he would still be able to bend and flex the joint. "From what my mom says, things are busier than ever around here."

She felt rather than saw him shrug, "I'll get it done eventually. I can't justify being out of commission that long, or even slowing myself down for that long. There are so many new applicants and junior elites showing up daily. I…" he trailed off.

"Sounds like you could use some help around here," she said, tucking the bandage in at the base of the wrap and patting his knee lightly.

Then suddenly his hand was on top of hers and there was that spark again. "I could, actually," he said, "use some help around here."

She stared at his hand on top of hers and bit her lip, then looked up at him, her eyebrows raised, "What are you saying?"

He took his hand off of hers and ran it through his hair, making the damp locks wild, "I need an assistant coach, someone I can trust, not an apparatus specialist, someone who can work with the girls on the same level that I do."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "And you don't think that would be awkward? I mean…we…God, we _slept_ together, Sasha." She looked at him, meeting his eyes, feeling stupid for having voiced the obvious, but it needed to be said, they needed to clear the air.

He laughed, though she could tell it held no humor, "Yeah, Payson, I know, believe me, I remember." She wasn't sure what emotion she heard in his voice, it wasn't anything she'd heard before, but it was there and it was unsettling, but then it was gone. "It was one night, are we going to let one night ruin what we've built?"

She searched his eyes, trying to find an ounce of insincerity, but it wasn't there. "No, that would be stupid of us, wouldn't it? I mean, we were both running on such an emotional high, things happen, sometimes, I guess," she said, her excuses sounding weak to her own ears, she couldn't imagine how silly they sounded to his, but it seemed he at least wanted to believe her, because he nodded in agreement.

"Exactly, it was one stupid, crazy night and, look, you don't have to worry about me; I can keep my hands to myself, Payson." She waved him off, not having eve considered that as an issue. She was more worried about her ability to keep her hands off him, not that she'd ever tell him that. "I think we'd make a great team."

"We always have," she said, smiling at him. Maybe it was the nostalgia of being back in this place or the undeniable hold he had over her, but she felt herself giving in, despite the awkwardness, despite how much the daily proximity would torture her. She wanted this, she wanted to coach and mostly, she wanted to coach with him. "I'd have to set my hours around my class schedule."

He nodded, "That's…that's fine. So you'll do it then?" he asked.

She smirked, "On one condition."

Now he laughed, a genuine full throated guffaw, "Always with the conditions."

Payson nodded, her smirk growing, "You have your surgery after my semester is over. I'll be able to be around full time when you're recovering and by then the girls and I should be pretty comfortable working together."

He looked like he was about to argue the point, but she shook her head, "Take it or leave it," she said, extending her hand.

He slipped his hand into hers, squeezing firmly, engulfing hers, the warmth spreading immediately from their grip throughout her body. Their eyes met and the connection snapped firmly into place. She looked away, trying to break the spell, but realized he still held her hand in his, that he hadn't let go. Finally, he released her.

She had no idea what he was thinking, but she had a feeling that everything had changed, _again._

* * *

**A/N: **So for those of you who thought this was going to be very angsty, you should know me better by now. I don't have the stomach for a ton of angst. I must prefer UST (untapped sexual tension), which as I've discovered can even occur after it's been…tapped. ;-) Anyway, please let me know what you thought of this chapter. We'll be off to Sasha's mind next and I'm bouncing already. I love writing from his POV as you all know by now! Until next time…

**Updated A/N: **Don't know what happened. FFnet decided to swap my last chapter of NJYb,A with this chapter. All fixed now. Sorry if there was any confusion. Thanks for the heads up, XoXoNiLeY2010.


	16. Promise

Sasha watched her, her feet landing firmly on the beam, then hands, then feet and then empty space before her feet landed lightly at the edge of the four inches, barely a centimeter between her and the end of the apparatus.

"Excellent," he said, smiling widely at the young gymnast who smiled back down at him.

Teresa Farnsworth hadn't been able to land her double flic-flac, back handspring at the beginning of the week and now late Friday evening she was landing a double flic-flac, layout, one of the most difficult aerial series that would be performed at the Pacific Rim Championships in just a few months. Teresa, a fourteen year old prodigy and the junior National champion, was one of the newest Rock girls, having joined up just after the Olympics.

"I can't believe I just did that," the tiny powerhouse said, jumping down and smiling from ear to ear.

Sasha could barely believe it either. He leaned on the cane that the physical therapist had given him after he complained incessantly about the crutches and nodded. This young lady just moved herself to the top of the leader board for American gymnastics in 2013, not that anyone was aware of it yet.

"I think that's enough for today, Teresa," he said, patting the young gymnast on the shoulder and she smiled and nodded before waving to her mother, the last person left in the parents viewing area, letting the woman know they were done for the day.

As the Farnsworths left for the night, Sasha looked up into the gym office and saw a familiar blonde head sitting at her desk, her brow furrowed in concentration as she shuffled through some paperwork. He knew Teresa and Payson had been working together since Monday on her beam routine. The results were astounding. In the month since he had his surgery and had to cut back the hours he spent on his feet, she'd made some real headway with the girls. Their coaching styles were different, but they complimented each other very well. Her delivery was firm and full of authority, but she communicated in soft undertones and serious appraisal where he was often harsh and biting. Her style was especially effective when dealing with the younger girls. He noticed her even toned critiques went over better with the emotionally charged juniors, an age group always challenging to deal with. He was thrilled with the way things were working out professionally.

Slowly he made his way up the stairs to the office and stood in the doorway for a moment just watching her. She normally wore her hair up while in the gym, a nod to her own training days not so long ago, but tonight it was down, probably to ease the pressure from a long day, a wavy mess of blonde hair tumbling down her back as she squinted at another sheet of paper.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me finish this stuff so we can get out of here before nine tonight," she said, not looking up at him. "Besides, you're not supposed to be on your feet this much. The doctor said you should rest after physical therapy," she reminded him in that same tone she used with their gymnasts.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, moving into the office, feeling that constant soreness from the surgery. He leaned onto the back of her chair, allowing it to support most of his weight and looked over her shoulder at what she was working on. He inwardly cringed, applications, dozens of them. They were inundated in the post-Olympic rush, but the competition to train at the Rock became really fierce when the parents of the nation's elite gymnasts realized that the great Payson Keeler was coaching there as well. Nine gold medals combined in a coaching staff was just too much hardware to be ignored. "How many new applications today?"

She leaned back, rubbing at her neck, "Seventeen," she said. "This one girl is eleven years old, her family lives in Virginia and they want to move across country and train here. Her application says she's a level ten, but she's eleven years old, Sasha. I feel like we shouldn't be encouraging people to uproot their lives, not until they've become serious national contenders."

Sasha sighed. He would never understand some parents. He knew what it meant for them, to think their child was special, but some people needed a reality check and the fact of the matter was, not everyone was Olympic material. "I agree. We'll come up with a form letter tomorrow for the applications that fit that bill, you know, thank you for your interest, too young to consider a major move yet, please keep us in mind etcetera, etcetera."

She nodded, twisting her back and shrugging her shoulders, wincing, before rubbing at the back of her neck again, massaging as best she could.

"Stiff?" he asked, resting his hand atop hers, stopping her motion. He couldn't help it and he knew that maybe he was obvious about it, but he found as many excuses to touch her as he could, despite his promise to keep his hands to himself.

"Yeah," she said, sighing in relief as his hand lightly knocked hers away and rubbed gently where her shoulders met her spine. She hummed and relaxed her shoulders as his fingers found the knot she was battling and massaged it insistently until he felt it shift and loosen under his touch. _Of course it helps when she melts like butter under your hands, not exactly pushing you away, is she?_

"So good," she breathed and suddenly, a the tone of her voice, he was back in the Olympic village, their bodies pressed together tightly, her breasts crushed against his chest, their stomachs meeting with every breath, his hands caressing the smooth lines of her back. "Sasha?"

Her voice pulled him back to the present and he realized that his hand was simply resting against the back of her neck, caressing the smooth skin with his thumb gently. He watched as goosebumps appeared under his touch. "Sorry," he said, clearing his throat, moving away from her, towards his own desk. "Better?"

She bit her lip, but obviously decided to ignore his slip-up. "Yeah," she said, shooting him a tight smile. "I've been sitting here too long."

"I just sent Teresa home," he said, changing the subject entirely. "She nailed her double flic-flac, layout."

Payson's thin-lipped grin suddenly blossomed into a bright smile, lighting up her face, "I know, she really started to land it consistently this morning. She was so excited to show it to you once you got back from PT."

He returned her smile, "You did a great job. Care to reveal your secret?" Their eyes met and he could have sworn hers sparkled at him, not a figment of his imagination, but a real sparkle, the way she used to look whenever she'd mastered a new skill. The way she'd looked just before the first time she'd kissed him.

"The double flic-flac, back handspring was too easy. The layout forces her to build a momentum in the flic-flacs that she wasn't generating before. She was using the third press of her hands as a, if you'll forgive the expression, crutch," she said, flicking her eyes to his abandoned crutches resting against the wall in the corner of the office. She arched eyebrow at him and he shrugged unapologetically. He'd struggled up and down the offices stairs for a week after his surgery until he'd literally thrown the crutches against the wall.

_He'd made it all the way into the office before nearly killing himself when one of the crutches caught in the rug and almost knocked him on his ass. He'd cursed and flung the lightweight metal towards the couches on the other side of the room. He was tired of feeling helpless and uncoordinated. He was a world class athlete, climbing stairs and entering a room shouldn't be this much trouble._

"_Feel better?" she said, standing in the doorway, her hip leaning casually against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest._

"_A little bit," he said, hobbling over to his chair, using his desk to hold some of his weight before falling into the seat. _

_She smiled at him and shook her head. "I get it, but really, we're training down there."_

_He rolled his eyes, "The girls have to learn to deal with unexpected noises during competitions."_

_She didn't respond, she simply titled her head at him is disbelief and he sighed. "Fine, Coach Keeler, I'll keep it down next time I decided to nearly kill myself with those death traps." _

_Her expression didn't change, "They're crutches, Sasha, not medieval torture devices." She bit her lip for a moment. "You could always ask for a cane. It'll be less cumbersome and it'll add to your air of mystery." _

_She was mocking him, as kindly as possible and it broke through his bad mood. "That's not a bad idea," he said, making a note to call the physical therapy office the next day. Then he winced as a sharp ache shot through his knee, up his thigh and down his calf. "Crap," he muttered, massaging gently against the joint._

_When he looked up he noticed she'd moved closer, concern written across her face. "Did you take your pain meds?" she asked. "The doctor said don't be afraid to use them, you shouldn't be in pain." _

_He shook his head, "I'd rather feel it. Those things make me numb and foggy. The pain keeps me grounded." _

_She raised her eyebrows at his words and her mouth twisted into a sad sort of smile, "You prefer the pain?"_

_Sasha met her eyes and he knew then that maybe they weren't just talking about his knee, "To nothing at all? Yeah, I prefer the pain." _

"_Me too," she said, breaking away from his gaze and moving to leave the office, but just as she made it to the door she stopped. "I'll run to the PT place during lunch and get you a cane."_

Her voice cut through his thoughts, "It was amazing to me when I first noticed it, but I'm not about to argue with success."

He shook his head in wonder, "The harder element is easier for her."

Payson smirked at him proudly, "Yes, it is. She's going to be great you know, barring injury. She's got it all, or she will at least, when we're done with her. She's going to Rio in 2016 if I have anything to say about it."

He only felt his smile widen, "So four years from now you'll still be coaching here?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her, but he regretted it almost immediately.

Her smile faded and her expression turned inscrutable and she completely avoided his question. Her eyes drifted away from his, towards a frame on the wall. The first picture was of all six Rock Olympics, in their Team USA gear, their medals hanging around their necks in the O2 arena in London. The other was taken a few months ago, at the annual Rocky Awards, the four Rock Rebels, anchored on either end of their foursome by Carter Anderson and Austin Tucker. The girls looked lovely, the young men cleaned up well enough and they were all smiling brightly. It was the last time, as far as he knew that they'd all be in the same place at the same time. Both Carter and Austin still trained at the Rock, obviously and Payson worked here now, but the other girls had moved on. "That was a good day," her voice broke into his thoughts. "Both of them."

"Have you spoken to them?" he asked. He knew they'd had their issues over the years, but those girls were irrevocably connected to each other for the rest of their lives, whether they liked it or not.

"Mostly just Emily," she said, with a small shrug. "She really loves Los Angeles. Damon's doing really well and she thinks she's got a real shot at the NCAA All-Around title this year."

"Kaylie and Lauren?" he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer to that. Of all four of the girls, those two had cut ties the most completely with the world of gymnastics after their return from the press tour and exhibition events.

She shook her head, "I get a text every once in a while from Kaylie, but I don't talk to Lauren," she said, her voice still holding some bitterness.

"You know, you shouldn't hold onto that anger too long, Payson. What she did was awful, but in the end, it all worked out," he said, less out of concern for her relationship with Lauren Tanner and more worried about her hanging on to an old grudge.

She rolled her eyes at him, "She didn't know that. Some things are unforgivable, Sasha."

"Yes, I suppose some things are," he acknowledged, wondering that if, in the end, he'd ever be able to forgive himself for crossing that line with her. He looked at her again, really looked at her. She seemed tired, or sleepy rather, not fatigued or overworked, and maybe happy, happier at least than when he met her a few months earlier on that hill and later that afternoon found himself offering her a job. Things had run smoothly from there, although they assiduously and many times clumsily avoided the topic of that night in London.

They sat in silence for another moment, the only sound in the office the shuffling of papers as she sorted neatly the ones she's already read through from the ones she'd yet to open. "So, what did they say at PT?" she asked, breaking the silence and with it the slight feeling over tension surrounding them. He looked up abruptly, studying the top of her head with more interest than was normal.

"I still need the cane, but he said in about a week and a half I'll be good as new, okay to run around, be on my feet all day and everything else."

She nodded, barely looking up, "Good," she said and then with some hesitation, she looked up at him with a smile, "you've been missed around here during the day. The girls are doing okay, but the gym needs you."

He leaned back in his chair, a sudden confidence overtaking him, "So you never answered my question, Payson."

"Hmm? What question?" she asked, excessively fascinated by the papers in front of her, but he knew she was just stalling.

He played along, that tiny ripple of confidence suddenly growing by leaps and bounds at her response. "Four years from now, you'll still be here coaching at the Rock with me?" he asked again. He had a feeling that he would like the answer.

She looked at him then, her eyes wide, almost like a deer caught in the headlights, but it wasn't fear he was reading in her expression, it was something else entirely. As a light pink hue crept slowly into her cheeks, his smile widened. "I'll stay as long as you want me," she said softly.

He sat back and considered her for a moment, not sure if she knew what she was saying to him. He thought maybe she did because for a split second, her eyes met his and flashed with an emotion, one that rarely graced her countenance, but it was there now. It was _need._ He'd first seen it in her the day Steve Tanner brought him to the Rock, as she chased him out of the gym in her bare feet, begging him to stay. Then again that day after her very first ballet lesson, the sadness and frustration easily apparent on her face. The last time he'd seen it was as she sat across from him in his room at the Olympic village, a champagne glass dangling between her fingers, her body language screaming at him that she wanted him, _needed_ him.

Maybe that was enough, her needing him. He sighed, still holding her eyes with his, maybe she didn't love him, but needing him, that was something, wasn't it?

Obviously he'd been silent long enough to worry her, "Sasha? You do want me to coach here, don't you? I mean it was your idea to begin with…" she trailed off, looking as unsure of herself as he'd ever seen her.

He nodded, "You really love it, don't you? Coaching." He'd always believed that as amazing a competitor as she'd been, coaching was where she belonged. He smiled.

"I do, but I think mostly I love coaching _here_. The Rock, it's home, it's where I belong."

Then he took a risk, maybe the riskiest thing he'd ever said in his life, "Here with me," he suggested, leaning forward in his chair, trying to get as close to her as possible, despite the two desks between them.

She looked away and for a moment his heart sunk into his stomach, twisting in pain, until she looked back at him and nodded, "Here with you," she affirmed and Sasha didn't quite believe his ears.

"Payson," he began and stopped, running a hand through his hair, wanting to talk to her, to get this all out in the open once and for all, but that confidence from moments before had faded and now he wasn't sure they should be doing this. "I know we said that we would…"

"I can't," she cut him off, shaking her head. The pain was back, tenfold. He knew he shouldn't have moved the conversation in this direction. "I can't forget," she continued. "I don't want to."

His mind had gone hundreds of different places as she spoke, but all thought came to a grinding halt. "You don't want to forget?" he asked, furrowing his brow.

She sat back in her chair and huffed out a frustrated breath. "I never should have gone to your room that night; I never should have brought that stupid bottle of champagne. I knew what I was doing. It wasn't fair to you."

That's where he knew he had to stop her, "Payson, I was there too, remember? A more than willing participant." _Willing participant? You make it sound like you just went along with it, like you weren't desperate for her, like you hadn't wanted her like that before she showed up. _"I was right there with you, Payson," he said, "I wanted it just as much as you did, maybe more and it…it was amazing."

She just stared at him and he found her gaze too much for him in that moment, so he averted his eyes, only to catch a glimpse of her moving out of her chair.

She was quiet for too long and he felt the need to fill that silence, "You needed someone, you were hurting," he said, looking up at her as she stood in front of him.

"You're always there when I need you, Sasha" she said softly, leaning up against his desk, her leg brushing against his. He could feel the spark of attraction flare even through the fabric of his jeans. "It doesn't sound fair. You're always there for me, but what do you get in return?"

He looked up at her, shaking his head, "I don't need anything in return, Payson, as long as – as long as you're happy."

She was silent again, not in shock this time, but seemingly confused. She studied him and this time he didn't break away from her penetrating gaze. His eyes were an open book, he was sure of it and she'd been reading fluently him for almost as long as they'd known each other. He knew if she looked, really looked, that he would be lost to her, because in that moment, he would give her the world if she asked him of it. He saw the shift in her expression the moment she realized it, the moment she knew she could have him if she wanted him, though there was still something else in her gaze, a vulnerability he hadn't seen since that night in London. He didn't have time to consider what it meant however, as she leaned down and brushed her lips against his. Her hair tickled gently against his cheek as her hand came to rest on his shoulder, the tips of her fingers brushing lightly at the skin just next to his shirt collar. She pulled back, her lips hovering just over his, "I love you," she whispered before leaning back entirely and looking away. "That's why I went to your room that night because I love you."

And now he knew he'd completely lost his mind. Maybe the pain in his knee was too much and it had driven him crazy. "Payson, you…that night you said you loved Kyle and that the bloody idiot didn't love you back. I don't understand…"

She bit her lip, looking contrite, "No, you asked me if I was in love and I said yes. God, I'm such an idiot, falling in love with my coach." She pushed off the desk and began to walk away, but he grabbed her hand quickly, knowing if she got too far away, he wouldn't be able to catch up with his knee aching the way it was.

He should have retreated back to what he told her years ago out in front of the gym, about coaches and athletes and their complicated and complex relationship, but the only words he could find were, "I'm not your coach." His voice rough with emotion as he forced them past his lips. He gave her hand a tug, wanting her to turn around and face him. These next words, he needed to look in her eyes to say them. Their eyes met and he smiled softly, squeezing her hand, "And if you're an idiot, than so am I, because I love you too."

Then for a moment, nothing else mattered, the age difference, what other people would say, even that they worked together, because with another tug of her hand she slid easily into his lap and their lips met again. This time he took control, cradling the back of her head in his palm, the other caressing her cheek lightly, as his tongue flicked against her bottom lip and then gently entered her mouth, their breaths mingling. He felt her fingers stroke at his neck sending shivers down his spine as her other hand rested against his chest, gripping at the cotton of his t-shirt as he deepened the kiss.

Breathless, they pulled back, their foreheads resting together. "We have to talk about this," he said, his hands dropping to her waist, pulling her more firmly against him.

She nodded her head, and moved in again, "Later," she said, just before her lips captured his.

* * *

**A/N: **Awww, Wuv, twue wuv! No seriously, these two are head over heels and I love it. I can't believe how close to finished this story is, it's just moving along. We've got one more "set" of chapters left, followed closely by an epilogue and then that's all folks. Please let me know what you think. I struggled for WHILE trying to figure out how to get them to the point where they confessed their feelings for each other. I hope that everything came through, not just what was one the page, but Payson's thoughts, which obviously you can't "hear" from Sasha's point of view as well. I tried to incorporate a lot of nonverbal communication in her actions, so hopefully you guys understood where she was coming from when she tells him that she loves him. Let me know! Thanks for reading. 3


	17. Ending

Payson's eyes fluttered open and groggily she squinted into the darkened room. Just next to her on the nightstand a digital clock blinked back at her in harsh red lights, a quarter after four in the morning. She groaned softly to herself. Los Angeles was only one hour behind Boulder, but her body clock would not adjust, not that she expected it to, especially in an unfamiliar bed with the busy day she had beginning in just a few short hours. She sighed and closed her eyes again, trying to let sleep overtake her, but the bed shifting beneath her and the warm hand flexing against her stomach caused a soft smile to spread across her face.

"You awake?" his raspy voice asked as he moved against her, pulling her body into his as they'd shifted in their sleep.

"Hmm, barely," she murmured, the warmth of his body drew her back towards unconsciousness.

His lips ghosted over the back of her neck, trailing to her shoulder, "Love you," he whispered against her skin.

The room was silent again and his deep, even breathing lulled her back to sleep.

When she slowly stirred for the second time, the light was shining in through the window though only a sliver, as the curtains were still drawn. She looked at the clock, half past nine, a much more reasonable hour. Sasha's body was still curled around hers, holding her close, his breath tickling the back of her neck. She moved against him, resting her hand over the top of his, entwining their fingers and squeezing gently. He stirred and pressed back against her, humming softly in her ear.

"Hmm, a decent hour," he murmured, sounding much more awake than he had earlier.

She didn't respond, simply rolled over and pressed a soft kiss into the hollow of his throat. "We have to get up soon. No stylists this time, remember? It's all up to us."

"I think we should go like this, now wouldn't that cause a stir?" His eyes twinkled down at her and she smiled before bringing her lips to his, kissing him slowly and sweetly, their legs tangling together as his arms wrapped around her.

She pulled back after a moment and sighed. "I really do have to get up. You're going to shower, put on that suit and look great. I have to do my hair and it's going to take a while."

He smirked, running his fingers through her long blonde locks, which he'd done his best to tangle into an utter mess the night before. "I think you're hair looks great."

She rolled her eyes lightly at the suggestion in his words, "I bet you do," she said, brushing a quick kiss against his lips before rolling away from him, slipping out from beneath the sheets and moving into the bathroom.

She flicked on the switch and the bright fluorescent light blinded her for a moment as she moved towards the sink. A splash of cool water over her face and she looked up at her reflection in the hotel mirror and smiled. Two years ago she'd been in this same hotel, in a room very much like this one, but things had changed so much since then she could hardly believe it.

Two years ago she'd been invited to Los Angeles as a nominee for ESPN's Comeback Athlete of the Year. She'd had no desire what so ever to attend the event, but the man lying in bed just a few feet away had persuaded her that it would be a good thing, win or lose, it would give her a sense of closure, putting her injury behind her once and for all. Of course, he was right.

And now here she was again, though she'd needed little convincing. A little less than a year since her win in London, she was nominated again, this time for an award much more to her tastes, Female Olympian of the Year. Nastia had won that award and it was very likely she would too, a lot more likely than her win two years ago had been.

This time her trip wasn't about the award or finding closure or peace or even getting dressed up in a pretty dress and walking a red carpet. No, this time it was about _him._ This time it was about being here with him, at the end of her career, celebrating her accomplishment and showing him just how much he means to her. They'd talked themselves blue in the face about their relationship, about the things that should be keeping them apart and she knew he still harbored some of those reservations, but she hoped after tonight that would begin to change, especially now that her parents knew.

She turned to the shower and spun the hot water handle, a testing the stream with her fingers before stepping underneath the spray. Her mind drifted to a moment a few weeks before just after she'd learned of her nomination.

"_You are going to this, aren't you?" her mother asked, wariness etched in her tone and obviously ready for a battle as they washed the dinner dishes._

_Payson smiled, "Of course I am. I went last time, didn't I?" she said, reading over the invitation again. _

_Payson Keeler and Guest_

_That's what it said. One guest to enjoy the evening with. She supposed her agent would be able to secure extra tickets if she asked, but she wouldn't ask. She knew who she wanted to take to these awards. The only problem was, she had no intention of his attendance being seen as anything other than what it was. They were seeing each other, dating, in a relationship, in an intimate relationship, whatever you wanted to call it, despite the unspoken secrecy they'd been operating under. It was time for that to end. She was a grown woman, almost twenty years old, a college student, a full time job, an Olympian, having a boyfriend whom she loved, it shouldn't be a problem._

"_Sasha practically forced you," Kim reminded her, handing her another wet plate to dry._

_Payson hummed in agreement, wiping the plate off and piling it with the rest. "He did, but I'm going this time, no persuasion necessary." _

"_Does this have something to do with a certain nominee in the Favorite Male Olympian category, does it?" her mother asked, looking at her sideways. _

_Payson rolled her eyes, "Kyle and I are over, Mom. I thought I made that clear to you. It's been almost a year." _

_Kim shrugged innocently, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder." _

_She sighed heavily and set the towel down turning to face her mother who steadfastly continued to wash dishes. "Kyle's a great guy, but it just wasn't working out."_

"_It just wasn't working out. You keep saying that and I don't get it, Pay. I never heard you utter a bad word about the boy and then suddenly it was just over, it doesn't make sense, even for you." _

_She took her mother's words with a grain of salt. Her mother didn't say it to hurt her, simply highlight the differences between her and most girls her age. Drama filled breakups, tears and screaming matches weren't her style, but even she had to admit that her breakup with Kyle was extraordinarily quiet and sudden, especially to the outside world._

_Payson bit her lip and came to a decision. It was time to put it out there, let her mother known what was going on. "Do you really want to know what happened?"_

"_Yes," Kim said, shutting off the faucet and wiping her hands off on a towel. "I'd really like to know, if you want to tell me."_

"_He told me he loved me," she said quickly, her voice stumbling over the words and avoiding her mother's eyes. "And I don't love him back."_

_Her mother's gaze was penetrating and Payson kept her face as neutral as possible. "Was he…did he try to pressure you, Payson? Was he saying that just to…?"_

"_No, no, Mom, that's the last thing…Kyle never pressured me," she said, trying to keep herself as vague as possible. Despite herself, she could feel a soft blush begin to creep up her cheeks. _

_Her mother bit her lip, frowning at her answer, obviously unsure what to make of it. "Did it scare you, that he said, 'I love you.'? That's a big step and it's perfectly understandable if you weren't ready to say it back, Payson." _

"_Mom, I'll never be ready to say it back to him, I don't love him."_

"_You're nineteen years old, Pay, how do you…"_

"_Because I know," she said, her tone sharp. "When you love someone, you feel it, deep inside. When you're with them everything around you is just better and when he's not there, life is just, it's just hollow. Maybe he felt that way about me, but I don't and that's not fair to him." She took a deep breath; this was it, the moment she'd been waiting for, an easy transition towards what she really wanted to share. "It wouldn't be fair to be with him when I love someone else."_

_Kim blinked at her and raised her eyebrows, "You love someone else." _

_Payson took a deep breath and let it out slowly before nodding. "Sasha," she whispered, though she knew her mother heard her clearly. _

_They lapsed into silence, her mother simply staring at her. Payson couldn't read the expression on her face, though she guessed it was somewhere between shock and outrage. _

_Finally, she spoke, "You love Sasha. Sasha, your coach, the man you work with every day, the man old enough to be your father," Kim shook her head, "Payson, that's…don't you see how that's impossible?"_

"_He's not my coach," she said, though she knew that made little difference to her mother's point, "and he's much older than me, I know that and so does he, but it only matters if we let it matter and it just doesn't, not to either of us."_

"_To either of you," Kim echoed, seemingly still stunned, "so he…" _

"_He loves me, Mom. I didn't think he did, I wasn't sure for so long. I thought maybe it was just me, but it wasn't. We've been…we've been waiting for each other for a long time and now it's finally, it's finally possible."_

"_Waiting for each other?" Kim asked. Payson sighed and nodded. It seemed like all her mother was capable of doing right now was repeating her words back to her. That didn't bode well for the rest of the conversation. "How long have you felt this way?" _

_Payson's eyes flew to Kim's as the first question was a response she hadn't expected. "A long time, years. I think it began after I kissed him, or rather after he let me down so gently," she answered truthfully, smiling despite herself, at the crush she had on him back then and how wonderful he'd been about it. "It just grew from there, every day. I've spent almost every waking moment with him for nearly five years. He's a good man, you know that, he wouldn't, he wouldn't say he loved me if he didn't mean it." _

_Kim shook her head, not in disagreement, but in confusion, "I guess I'm just in shock. I never saw this coming…I thought…"_

_Payson sighed and frowned, wanting to explain better than she had. "I guess we hid it for so long, from ourselves, from each other, we've become really good at it. I just…I need you to…I don't know, Mom. I guess I just need you to understand." _

"_Oh, I understand," her mother said, a small smile playing upon her lips. The soft expression gave her hope. "I understood why you kissed him all those years ago and I get it now, Payson. He's…there aren't a lot like him out there."_

_Payson smiled as her eyes drifted to her mother's. "No there aren't. He's just – he's just so – he's not perfect, but…" she trailed off with an affectionate sigh. _

_Her mother's smile faded, "The only thing I've ever wanted if for you to be happy, Pay. I just can't help but think, you two are at such different places in your lives. He's nearly twice your age, probably thinking about marriage and kids and settling down….things that shouldn't be on your radar yet." _

"_And if they were?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at her mother, whose jaw dropped in shock. "Not right away, obviously. I'm in school and I love coaching, but I can see it, clear as day in my head, Mom. I see those things with him." _

"_And that doesn't scare you?" her mother asked, furrowing her brow. Payson knew she was a puzzle to her mother, always had been and probably always will be and she'd just thrown yet another confusing piece into that puzzle._

"_No, not at all."_

The water began to grow cold around her and she shivered. She and her mother and eventually her father, along with Sasha had a long talk and she suspected, thought she hadn't had the heart to call him out on it, that Sasha had privately spoken to either one or both of her parents. Things were tense, but she knew that the real test was longevity. She and Sasha were in this for good and sooner or later her parents would recognize that.

She stepped out of the shower, drying herself off with a towel before wrapping herself in her bathrobe. The last time she'd been to the ESPY Awards Ronnie Cruz hired a stylist who'd put her hair into beautifully arranged loose curls. It looked natural and gorgeous, but it had taken hours despite that. Tonight Payson was all about being herself and one of the things that always made her feel beautiful was wearing her hair down, straight and shiny flowing down her back. She pulled out her hairdryer and grabbed a thick, round brush and began.

A half hour later she emerged from the bathroom her long blonde hair shimmering down her back. Sasha was still in bed, lounging against the pillows, reading, but as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom he tossed his book aside. "I love…"

"…my hair like this. Yes, I know," she said, smiling at him cheekily. "So do I."

She grabbed her makeup bag from the suitcase against the wall and sat down on the edge of the bed to start applying it. She was digging around for the foundation she almost never used, but would be necessary for a red carpet, when she felt the bed shift underneath her. She turned to see Sasha walking on his knees across the king mattress, stopping just behind her. With one hand he steadied himself on her shoulder. She could feel the heat radiating through the silk of her robe as his other hand stroked gently through her hair, weaving his fingers through the silky strands, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against the nape of her neck. He gathered her hair together and laid it over her shoulder before he leaned down, burying his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply, his whiskered cheek rubbing lightly against her soft skin.

She sighed in contentment as his legs slid out from under him, settling around hers, pulling her back into his embrace. "We don't have to do this, you know," he murmured. "We could just go out there like last time and no one would say a word about it."

He was giving her an out, an out she didn't want. "We're in this together," she said, lacing her fingers through his as they rested on her stomach. "Personally, I want the world to know that you're mine, so unless you changed your mind…" she trailed off. She could think of a few reasons why he might hesitate. The gossip tongues would be wagging and for the most part he would be the one they'd whispering about, the coach who seduced his young gymnast.

"Are you kidding?" he asked, his lips finding the skin of her neck again. "I love you, Payson. I don't care who knows it. The only opinion that matters to me is yours."

"And my parents," she said, teasing him a little.

He read her tone easily, "Maybe them as well, a little bit," he admitted. She chuckled lightly, which he quickly silenced by running his tongue over a particularly sensitive patch of skin on her neck. Then he was gone suddenly, bounding of the bed and moving towards the bathroom, laughing as he went to take his shower.

"That was just _mean,_" she called to him.

His only answer was to laugh harder and turn on the shower.

She laughed a little to herself as she started digging through the bag for that foundation again, shaking her head. Things were so easy and natural when they let them be. It hadn't been that way at first. He'd been tentative and hesitant. After that first night, kissing, tempting each other with their mouths for what felt like hours, they hadn't talked like they said they would. They simply fell into a pattern of shameless flirting and heated, passionate encounters in the gym office or in his trailer long after the last gymnasts had gone home for the night. Then one night, just a day before she received her ESPY nomination, things got a little out of control…

_His body pressed heavily into hers, her hips cradling his as his mouth tasted and teased every inch of exposed skin. Her shirt had long been discarded, as had his and the heat their bodies were generating was going to need a release and soon. She arched against him as his hands slid across the skin of her back, finding the clasp of her bra. "I want you, Sasha," she whispered into his ear as she caressed his chest with one hand, the other weaving through his hair, feathery soft to the touch. "Make love to me." _

_At her words she felt him tense, the muscles of his chest tightening immediately. She pulled back, searching his face, wondering what was wrong. "Sasha?" _

"_Is that really what you want?" he asked, his breath still ragged, eyes closed. _

_She brought a hand to his face, hoping he would open his eyes and look at her, "I want you. I love you, Sasha. I thought…I thought you knew that." _

_His eyes finally opened and met her gaze. The silvery pools met hers. She knew that expression. He was deadly serious in this moment. It was the same look she'd seen in his eyes that night she'd gone to find him in Cambria, noble and self-sacrificing. "I love you too," he whispered, "but this…this isn't enough, what we've been doing."_

_She frowned. "But I just said…I want you to—" _

_He cut her off, shaking his head, "I don't mean physically. I love you and I want you desperately, but if we're going to do this, Pay, we need to really do this, not just sneaking around like we're doing something wrong. I feel like I can't even look your mother in the eye anymore." _

"_So we'll tell her. I wasn't sure if you wanted to, that's why I didn't…" she trailed off. "We never did talk about any of this, did we?" _

_He shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly; just a small smirk, but it sent a wave of lust through her. "Not that I recall. I think we've been busy doing other things," he said, pulling her body against his, his arousal pressing against her, as if to further illustrate his point. _

"_Mmm," she hummed, kissing him lightly on the lips. "I'll talk to my mom tomorrow." _

"_And your father?" he asked, though his lips were already trailing over the line of her jaw, back towards her neck. _

"_Him too. After my mom," she said, knowing her father would be less than pleased, but having her mother there would help, she was sure. Then all coherent thought faded as his hands trailed that same path over her back towards her bra strap and she surrendered over to the pleasure that was sure to follow._

She rolled her eyes at herself, staring down at the makeup she'd yet to apply. She only had about a half hour before the car would arrive. She brushed the foundation over her skin lightly, just a little blush, but then focused on her eyes. She knew with the right makeup she could make them light up from across a room. Some color to her lips with a shiny gloss and she was done. She'd never been a huge fan of makeup, but a little could go a long way as her mom was fond of saying.

She checked her reflection in the mirror that hung above the dresser and nodded, satisfied with what she saw. She quickly slipped off her robe and slid into the silky underwear she'd brought and then over it, the white satin dress. Simple and classy, no major designer labels, she bought this dress at the mall, but she loved the way she looked in it and she couldn't wait to see what Sasha thought. She didn't have to wait long.

"Wow," he said, emerging from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. "Christ, Payson, you look…"

She looked back over her shoulder at him, "Zip me up?" she asked, coyly, remembering the last time she'd asked him for help with her dress. She'd felt the heat of his fingers brushing against her skin the entire night.

She turned back around, pulling her hair out of the way. She felt rather than saw him approach, he hovered there for a moment and she closed her eyes. That electricity was there, the snap of attraction she'd felt since that night in Cambria, it hadn't faded in the slightest. She hoped it never did. His fingers trailed up the smooth, exposed skin of her back before he tugged the zipper into place.

"I'm not going to lie, Payson, when you asked me to unzip your dress the last time we were here, I wanted you so badly. I think I knew then, though I never would have admitted it," he whispered. Her eyes fluttered open and met his in the mirror. "You look beautiful. You looked beautiful that night even though I couldn't tell you so, but more so tonight."

She smiled at him in the mirror, "Pretty words," she said, joking lightly, her eyes dancing at his.

"I mean every one of them," he said, brushing a kiss against her shoulder, his gaze never leaving hers.

She couldn't help it, when he looked at her like that she felt like melting into his arms and letting him completely have his way with her. She took a deep shuddering breath to steady herself, "Get dressed," she said, "the car should be here soon." Her words said one thing, but her eyes said another entirely and he smiled wickedly, holding the promise of what would come when they returned later that night.

The red carpet wasn't quite as crazy as their last trip to the ESPYs and after a few quick interviews and meeting up with Austin and Kaylie, they moved towards the lobby to mill around before the show began. Payson had kept hold of Sasha's hand the entire trip up the red carpet, posing together in pictures, leaning into each other. It was obvious to anyone who saw them; this was not just a coach and his athlete. Sasha Belov and Payson Keeler were very much together.

"So do you have something you want to share?" Kaylie asked as they moved away from the men for a moment towards the ladies room.

Payson raised an eyebrow and smiled softly, "We are being pretty obvious aren't we?" she said, her smile only growing as she met his eye across the room. He and Austin seemed to be having a rather light hearted conversation, engaging a few other men near them as well.

Kaylie scoffed, but there was a smile on her face, "Yeah, just a little. You two were the talk of the carpet."

Payson bit her lip, "Yeah? What were…"

Kaylie rolled her eyes, "Nothing bad, one bimbo seemed thrilled you weren't here with Kyle, but everyone else seemed to think you look great together."

Payson snorted, rolling her eyes, "Aesthetically pleasing, yeah, that's definitely what we were going for."

"Don't worry about it, Pay. You and Sasha…I mean I know you kissed him that one time, but seriously, he's a lot…"

"Older, I know," she finished for her friend and sighed heavily. That's all anyone ever mentioned, age. She wasn't a big proponent of the _age ain't nothin' but a number_ philosophy, but she and Sasha were very much equals, no one was being taken advantage of and she wished they were at the point where people realized that. In this moment, she wasn't sure if they ever would.

Kaylie seemed to recognize she hit a slightly sore subject, so she added, "But you were like thirty when we were fifteen, Pay, so it's all good."

She couldn't help, but laugh at her friend's attempt to lift her spirits and when they returned to the men looking pretty dashing in their suits, a bright smile was lit across her face.

"Hey," she said, slipping her arm through his, entwining their fingers again.

"Hey," he responded, looking down at her, affectionately. "Ready to go inside?"

She nodded and they walked arm and arm into the theater, vaguely hearing Austin's voice echo, "I knew it," through the lobby as Kaylie probably filled him in.

The ceremony was no less torturous than she remembered. Hours of ego stroking and bad comedy, but about a quarter of the way through the show it was time for her award after applauding wildly for Austin who'd edged out Kyle for Favorite Male Olympian.

It was no contest, it seemed everyone in the theater knew she was going to win, so when Linsday Vonn, the award's previous recipient from 2010 said her name, she smiled softly and then leaned over to the man next to her.

"Congratulations," he whispered as their lips brushed lightly. She was sure the cameras were squarely on them, but she didn't care. Two quick hugs from Kaylie and Austin and she moved out of the row. The trip to the stage was fast, just a few steps to navigate carefully in her heels.

The trophy was heavy. She'd forgotten that.

"This is Payson Keeler's second ESPY award. Her first was in 2011 as the Comeback Athlete of the Year," a disembodied voice echoed through the auditorium as she approached the microphone.

She took a steadying breath and looked out into the crowd. "Thank you, everyone. This is an incredible honor. I was so proud to be able to travel to London and represent my country, so this award is very much the icing on the cake. First I want to thank my parents and my sister, Becca. Without their sacrifices over the last fifteen years this wouldn't have been possible. My teammates, Kaylie, Emily, Lauren, Kelly and Andrea, I was so proud to share that podium with you." She turned her eyes to the left, finding Sasha quickly where she'd left him, smiling up at her from his seat. "And finally to the man who came here with me tonight, Sasha Belov, thank you. The last two years were the most difficult of my life, so many moments, highs and lows for the both of us. I just have to say, I can't think of any other person I would have rather taken this incredible journey with. So many things have changed these last few months and I've never been happier. I love you more than I could ever express in words." At last she broke away from his gaze, feeling a tear pooling in the corner of one eye. She look back over the rest of the crowd and smiled. "Thank you."

As she moved off the stage, Lindsay Vonn towering over her, the click clack of their heels echoing in her ears along with the raucous applause from the crowd, Payson finally felt like one chapter of her life was over and another, perhaps even more exciting than the last, had begun.

* * *

**A/N: **Ahhh. I'm having major league separation anxiety from this fic, so much so that I spent about five hours on the internet the other night looking for pictures of…crap, can't tell you all that, it would give away the ending, which we're rapidly approaching if you couldn't tell. One more chapter after this and then the epilogue. *dances* Almost there… Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. Reviews make me smile and smiles make me write, or something like that. ;-) Oh yeah and you can see Payson's dress linked in my profile.


	18. Beginning

The GPS was plugged in guiding him through the winding country highways and roads since they'd exited the 101 an hour earlier, the California countryside beautiful against the backdrop of the sun slowly setting. Though he had no need of it, now, the GPS told him in a clear, confident, matter of fact voice that he'd arrived at his destination. He reached up, switched the device off, not needing it to go into mental apoplexy when he continued driving despite "reaching his destination" and turned the car into the dirt road that led up into the woods. His cabin was a little less than a half mile up the road, but it may as well have been hundreds.

The area was exactly as he remembered it, peaceful and quiet. It was exactly what he'd needed all those years ago, trying desperately to find a respite from the rest of the world, filled with the pain of failure. It was only a few weeks since they arrived home from Rio, the site of the 2016 Olympics. It was different now returning after such a triumphant and bittersweet victory, returning to the place Payson won her second World Championship and the city where his father passed away, but the games flew past in a whirl of media and a stunning performance from their gymnast. He'd barely had time to dwell on the regret he still felt for how things had ended between him and his father, though he'd spared a few moments just after their arrival to clear his head. He'd been able to focus all of his energy into coaching Teresa Farnsworth through the Olympics. Their golden girl won a silver medal with Team USA, the All-Around bronze medal and gold on the balance beam.

It was a hectic few weeks after their return to the states, but they were finally taking a break, a well deserved vacation after such a phenomenal two weeks in Brazil. Payson had seemed to be exhausted by it all, her usual high energy level faded quickly and he knew she needed a break, some time away to recharge before they began another Olympic cycle.

He pulled the truck past the cabin down the driveway towards the garage. He pressed a button on a small keypad on his sun-visor and the door slowly rose upward revealing an empty spot just big enough for his airstream. He reached out a hand to wake up Payson; just a small touch to her shoulder and her eyes flickered and slowly became clear. She smiled. "Are we here?"

He nodded, "I'm going to back the trailer in and then unhook it, could you drive the car back out front?" he asked, already backing the trailer in and then flicking the truck into park.

He hopped out and unhooked the trailer then gave Payson, who'd already climbed into the driver's seat, the thumbs up. She nodded and pulled her head back into the cab of the truck. She started the engine and drove back out to the front of the house. Sasha stood up and looked over the airstream, still looking as good as the day it was delivered to the Rock almost seven years ago. There were a lot of memories in that trailer, some good, some bad, but he wasn't sad to see it go.

He stepped out of the garage and pulled the door down, locking it into place with a satisfying click. Maybe he'd use it for camping trips and such, but that trailer represented the past and all he wanted to concentrate on was the future. They were closing on the house next week, a beautiful lake house just outside of downtown Boulder, near enough to the Rock to make the commute easy, far enough away to feel like they'd truly gone home for the day once they left. In reality he'd stopped living in his trailer a long time ago; it was there merely for the sake of appearances, keeping the wagging tongues from gossiping too much about the unmarried coaching couple shacking up together. Most of that talk had ceased a long time ago and they were taking the next step, as Payson called it. Her father had a different description for it, despite his daughter being in her mid-twenties and this mass of changes had finally spurred Sasha into action.

He slid his hand into the pocket of his jacket and closed his first around the small velvet box that rested there. He bought the stupid thing two years ago, after she'd graduated from CU Boulder. He was going to ask her then, but all she could talk about was renting a flat, getting out on her own and she was so excited about that part, _being on her own_, he knew he had to wait. He forgot sometimes, how much younger than him she really was. Sixteen years was a long time, despite her unusual maturity. And so he waited, biding his time and keeping the ring socked away in his underwear drawer.

Every once in a while he'd take it out and look at it, usually after a fight. They fought rarely, but when they did it was like a nuclear explosion, the initial blast would take out anyone in the immediate area and the fallout could last for weeks, making the Rock a frosty place to work and their gymnasts unusually cooperative to the point of instant obedience. Those were the times when he felt like maybe he should just let her go, allow her to find someone closer to her own age, but one look at that ring would remind him just how much loved her and just how much they needed each other. Then things would settle, they'd both apologize, usually not recalling what it was they fought about in the first place and the reunion would be another kind of melt down all together, an all consuming inferno as that fierce connection between them burned out of control.

Sasha shook his head, not sure how long he'd been standing behind the house staring into space, but the sudden rumble of thunder from above and the quickly darkening skies launched him into action. The rain began to fall in large drops as he jogged around the house and through the front door just as the deluge really began.

He slammed the door behind him, "Christ, that was fast," he muttered, glancing out the window at the pitch black woods surrounding the cabin. He recalled another night quite like this one. He'd been sitting on the couch, a book in his hand, but his thoughts had been focused not on the words of Nabokov, but on the life he'd left behind in Boulder. He shook his head, shaking the water out of his hair and sighed. Seven years, almost to the day, since he'd been sitting on that couch and he heard someone pounding on his door as the rain poured down outside. He inhaled deeply. The house smelled the same. He hadn't been here in a long time. He rented it out a couple of times, mostly to outdoorsmen looking for a place to sleep during fishing trips, a few couples looking for a romantic cabin for a weekend, but the last time he'd physically inhabited this place was the day Payson came to find him. The beginning of the end he liked to call it. The moment he began to fall in love with her, standing there in the middle of his front hall dripping wet, looking for all the world like a drowned rat, glaring at him as the water puddled on his floor.

Then suddenly she was there in front of him, laughing as she handed him a towel. "What's with this place and end of the world kind of weather?" she muttered as he wiped the water from his hands and face before running the towel over his head.

"It knows I want you all to myself," he said, leaning in towards her and kissing the top of her head, inhaling the familiar scent of her shampoo mixed with a perfume he bought her last Christmas.

"I made you tea," she said, stepping away from him, moving towards the kitchen. He watched her as she moved, the woman before him so similar and yet so wonderfully different from the girl who'd driven twenty hours, seven years ago to drag him back to Colorado. She was barefoot, having left her shoes and socks by the front door, her jeans, not too tight, not too loose over the curve of her hips. The long sleeved, ribbed henley t-shirt hugging the generous swell of her breasts. That was perhaps the biggest change.

She'd been dismayed as she ceased training with the intensity of a gymnast on the Olympic track when her body morphed before their eyes a second time. She hadn't grown again, but her athletic frame easily slid into the form of the curvaceous young woman nature had intended her to be. She was still in spectacular shape, as they both worked out regularly, but though she'd always been beautiful, this was something else entirely. Her body held a frightening power over him, even more so once she realized exactly what it did to him. She knew a gentle sway of her hips or the whispering touch of the curve of her breast against his arm was enough to drive him mad with lust.

He simply took her in as she poured each of them a cup and moved back into the living room. "Are you just going to stand there?" she asked, her mouth quirking up in an indulgent smile as she curled up on the couch, a book already in her hands. She'd made good use of her time alone, building a roaring fire, creating a warm glow in the room.

Sasha kicked off his boots. He studied her for a moment, making sure she was focused on the page in front of her before he slipped the ring box from his jacket pocket. His back now to her, he took it from its bed of velvet and slid it onto his pinky finger. It was a tight fit even before the knuckle and he closed his fist to keep it safe. Sasha moved towards the bookshelf, pretending to examine it carefully for something to read, when his thoughts drifted to what he planned on saying. He'd been thinking about it for a long time now and he still had not settled on anything.

He remembered the night he realized he was in love with her, the desperate pain of that moment was still so fresh a little more than five years later. It was in quiet moments like these that he remembered it could just as easily be him alone in this cabin, if they hadn't come to their senses, if they hadn't been stupid and given into their physical attraction that night in London. If she hadn't run into him on that trail and his knee hadn't given out. If Steve Tanner hadn't tracked him down and pulled him from the scrap heap, and if that same man hadn't suspended him from the Rock, forcing her to take matters into her own hands and drive twenty hours to find him _here_ and bring him back home, home to her.

"Sasha? You've been standing there for ten minutes. Is this your way of telling me you want my book? Because I'm not giving it up without a fight." He remained silent and took a deep breath. "Sasha?" she asked again, concern evident in her tone.

Then suddenly, he knew what he wanted to say. He turned to face her and smiled and the tension in her eyes melted away as he moved towards her. She lifted a brow at him, the question obvious, but he shook his head as he sat next to her, pulling the book from her hands, marking the page and setting it down on the table.

"I was reading that," she protested lightly, but grew silent as their eyes met. She took a deep breath, the question still in her eyes. Yet, she could obviously tell he was about to say something important. It was something they'd figured out. Those moments where the world would stop around them, it was an inexplicable connection, but it wasn't random. The burning fire that coursed between them in these moments was a direct result of their serious intensions, whatever they were and he couldn't think of anything more serious than what he was about to say.

He opened his mouth and began to speak, but suddenly the words caught in his throat. She blinked and studied him before reaching out and taking his hand. Thankfully the one without the ring hooked to his pinky finger. He felt the tension leave his body as she entwined their fingers together, pressing her palm against his. "What is it?" she asked, leaning down and pressing her lips to his knuckles.

For the first time in a very long time Sasha was nervous. He could feel it, the butterflies building in his stomach, the blood pounding in his ears, adrenaline rushing through his veins, the metallic taste of it on his tongue. Then, it all stopped, as she turned his hand in hers and stroked her thumb against his pulse point. A light touch, but it spoke volumes. "I'm here," she was saying, "Tell me."

He lifted his eyes to hers again and the anxiety faded, "Payson," he began and then the words started to flow, "You are…you're everything to me. I remember what my life was like before you came into it and it was hollow, though I had no idea what was missing. It was you. You are the most incredible woman I have ever met and will ever meet. You're strength and passion astounds me every day, inspires me to believe in things I never thought possible. Sometimes I feel like I'm walking around in a dream. I never knew what it meant to be in love until you walked into my life and I promise to spend the rest of my days showing you exactly how much I love you." He decided to stop there, feeling a lump growing steadily in his throat especially as he saw her eyes begin to shine back at his, as if she understood where he was going and what words would spill from his lips next. "Payson Keeler, love of my life, will you marry me?" he whispered, opening his hand, offering her the ring, his heart pounding against his chest.

He watched a slow smile spread across her face, her eyes not leaving his as she leaned in closer, "Yes," she whispered against his lips before her mouth met his softly. Just a brief caress of her bottom lip and a nudge of his tongue against hers and he pulled back. He took her left hand in his and slipped the ring onto her fourth finger. "It's beautiful, Sasha," she murmured, studying the simple setting. He supposed he could have afforded something bigger and flashier, but despite all the fame and glory surrounding the both of them, he thought simple and elegant was much more appropriate for her, though he'd spared no expense. It was a platinum band with a two karat circle cut diamond nestled into the six prong setting. The woman at Tiffany's had thrown out many adjectives to describe it, but the one that stood out was timeless. That's what his fiancée was, a timeless beauty inside and out. He let out a shaky breath and she squeezed his hand tightly.

"I love you," she said, looking back up into his eyes. "I've loved you for so many reasons and in so many different ways." She brought both hands to his face, her fingers lightly tracing his jaw as she leaned in again, pressing her lips to his. He felt the cool metal of the ring slide against his cheek, then over his neck as she raked her fingers into his hair. Then suddenly she pulled back, "Wait, you're not just asking me because of what my dad said the other day…he was just being…you know my dad, he can't help himself…."

"Payson," he cut her off, his voice raspy, his eyes flicking between hers and her slightly swollen lips, begging to be kissed again even as the words spilled from them. "I've had that ring for two years, love, waiting for the right moment to ask you."

"Two years?" she repeated, furrowing her brow, pulling back from him almost entirely. "What…were you...why didn't you…." It seemed she couldn't settle on just one question of the many swirling across her expression.

He hurried to explain, "I bought it when you graduated from college, I thought that would be the perfect time to ask, but then you were so excited about your flat and living on your own, I thought it was something you should experience before you tied yourself down and…."

"You stupid, noble, dim, sweet man," she muttered, shaking her head, a small smile appearing again. "I should be furious with you…." She let that thought hang in the air as she pressed her lips against his softly at first and then with purpose, sliding her tongue past his lips, invading his mouth. Then she was moving against him, a knee on either side of his thighs as she sat astride him, pressing the soft curves of her body against his. He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her close, one hand grasping against her hip the other buried into the silk of her hair.

They pulled back to breathe and he couldn't help himself, "Furious?" he asked, nuzzling against the smooth skin at her décolletage.

"Mmm," she hummed, acknowledging both his question and the touch of his lips to her skin. "You thought I'd want to live in an apartment by myself more than I'd want to marry you. What on Earth made you think that? I swear, Sasha, sometimes…." She stopped speaking and shook her head, though he didn't like the expression on her face.

"What?" he asked, his brows knitting together.

She sighed and shrugged, "Sometimes, I think maybe you don't think I love you as much as I do." She pressed her fingers to his jaw again, stroking against his stubbled cheeks, drawing his eyes to hers, the same connection that joined them together moments before as he proposed settling over them again. "You do know how much I love you, don't you? I know I'm not as demonstrative as I could be, I try to be professional in front of the girls and I just…."

"I do," he said, wanting to reassure her, running his hand through her hair, cupping her cheek, his thumb tracing over her lips. "You show me every day, a look, a touch, that's all it takes, love." It was the truth or as near to it as he could give voice too. He could scarcely believe it was possible, but he knew she loved him as wholly and deeply as he loved her.

She laughed lightly all of a sudden, "Do you hear us? You just asked me to marry you and I said yes…."

"You did," he said, her laugh giving him reason to smile, "We're getting married."

"We are," she agreed and then her expression softened further. "I will say, while I can't believe you waited this long to ask me, your timing is impeccable."

He tilted his head in confusion, "Yeah, how's that?" he asked.

"I wanted to wait to tell you," she began, "I mean I haven't even been to the doctor to confirm it yet, but the symptoms are all there…"

_Doctor? Symptoms? _"Are you sick, Pay?" he asked, the fear nearly stopping his heart.

She shook her head, leaning into his chest, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her lips brushed against his cheek before trailing up towards his ear, "We're going to have a baby."

Sasha's world tilted on its axis. "A baby?" he managed to echo, though his mind was having trouble wrapping around the idea.

"In about six months if I've done my math correctly," she informed him in a whisper. Her voice struck him oddly and he realized he still hadn't looked at her. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes and saw a vulnerability there he hadn't seen in a long while.

"But how?" he wondered aloud, despite every instinct in him screaming to simply embrace her, reassure her in some way. His natural curiosity won out, however.

"I don't know," she said, "The pill is almost one hundred percent effective, but obviously not completely and I didn't miss any. I checked, _a lot_." She bit her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth. Obviously she'd thought it over many times and second guessed herself enough to be sure.

"It's a miracle then," he concluded, reaching up to caress her cheek again, his other hand resting lightly against her abdomen.

"I thought you didn't believe in miracles," she quipped and he could hear the relief in her voice.

"A miracle of our own making." His voice caught on the words. "A baby, Payson, our baby."

"I know," she said, taking a deep breath. "It's incredible, isn't it?" Her face suddenly lit up, her eyes sparkling down at him and he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it before. She was glowing from the inside out. He finally understood what people meant when they said that about women who were expecting, her skin radiated happiness and health and all those things that suddenly held so much more meaning for him.

"When you said yes, I thought that was the most incredible thing I'd ever heard, but you just topped it," he said, pulling her closer. They hadn't talked about children, at least not in any concrete way, just as a vague thought that there would be some someday, but now despite the surprise and shock currently coursing through his veins, he couldn't say he was anything less than thrilled. "I love you," he said.

They lost themselves then in each other, a kiss and a touch quickly becoming much more, the rain outside still raging as they created their own fervent storm together.

Later that night the rain still fell, echoing softly against the roof of the cabin, a steady beat now instead of the tempest from earlier. His body was wrapped around hers, his hand resting over her stomach, her hand laying over his, the metal of the ring he'd given her cool against his skin and Sasha knew that whatever his life had been before, that in this moment, everything was just beginning.

* * *

**A/N: **Ahhh, it's over. *sobs* Actually, okay, it's not really over. There's still an epilogue, but for all intents and purposes, this is the point I wanted to get them to when all this started out…oh say…four and a half months ago and I got them there, so HOORAY! Thanks so much for sticking with this and not freaking out too much when I spent time on this instead of NJY,bA. I had this story in me and it had to come out. Please let me know what you think. I feel like I just wrote a huge epic finale chapter. I had to fit a ton of stuff in this one and I want to make sure I did it justice. Loved it? Hated it? Luke warm? Let me know. I live for feedback! Thanks for reading as always. I hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas, though you'll be hearing from me before then, I'm sure! Oh and if you want to see Payson's ring, there's a picture in my profile.


	19. Epilogue: Not Lost, Found

Sasha looked over at Austin and smiled at the young man frowning at his own reflection. He'd never seen Austin Tucker quite this nervous, not in any competition at least, but he supposed this was different, in fact he knew it was. Five years ago he'd been in a similar room, wearing an outfit much like the one he wore today, feeling exactly the same way.

"_How do you feel?" Marty Walsh asked him, quirking a brow at him in that annoyingly condescending way he'd always had._

"_Like I'm about to jump off a cliff," Sasha responded honestly. His stomach was in knots and he hadn't been able to sit still since early that morning. He and Payson had stupidly listened to their insistent friends and family that spending the night before their wedding together was bad karma and thus she'd slept at her parents' house while he'd knocked around their empty house by himself. He'd spent most of the night sitting in the empty room that in five months would become a nursery, staring into space and thinking. They'd thrown the ceremony together in just under two weeks, a credit to Kim Keeler's efficiency and Payson's odd fixation on not "showing" in her wedding photos. He never imagined that would be important to her, but he wasn't about to argue with her and her pregnancy hormones. He learned that lesson very early on._

_Marty scoffed, "Should have thought about that before you knocked up one of your former gymnasts." His tone was teasing, but there was a hint of seriousness in his old friend's expression. _

"_Bugger off," Sasha managed, straightening the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. _

Sasha shook himself from the memory and looked towards Austin's father, looking freshly washed and clean shaven, a far cry from what he'd looked like a few days before upon their arrival in Boulder when he'd vaguely resembled a wild mountain man, his wife not looking much better. He was sitting on a chair at the other end of the room, staring out the window looking extremely put out. It seemed there would be no help from that corner, so it would be up to Sasha. He stood up and moved just behind Austin, his own reflection mirrored back at him. He put a comforting hand on the young man's shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"Breathe," he said, adding a little more pressure to his grip. Austin's eyes were practically glazed over, unseeing and his breath was coming in short, staccato spurts. "Tucker," Sasha said in his best coaching voice, the perfect combination of sharpness and concern.

Austin started, his eyes refocusing upon his reflection, seeing Sasha for the first time. He sighed in relief. "Sorry, I'm just…."

"Panicking," Sasha finished for him. "It's okay to panic, in here anyway. You've got to get it out of your system before you go out there," he said, pulling a silver flask from the inside of his tuxedo jacket pocket and passing it to him. "Take a swig and then pop some mints," he suggested. "You need to take the edge off."

Austin raised his eyebrows, "You really think that's a good idea?" he asked, though he didn't hesitate in taking up the flask.

"I'm not saying get pissed out of your mind. I'm saying, you need to calm down and this will help. Just don't tell Payson," he added quickly as Austin eyed the flask warily, but then took a long swig of the whiskey before letting it settle into his stomach.

"I won't breathe a word," Austin said, as Sasha offered him a handful of Tic-Tacs and then replaced both in his jacket.

There was a knock at the door and Sasha patted Austin on the shoulder lightly before moving towards the door. He opened to see the back of a very familiar head, her blonde hair spilling down her back in loose, shiny curls, the cut of the dress hugging around her curves in such a way that still sent his pulse into overdrive. He cleared his throat and she stood, her hair spilling back over her shoulder as their eyes met.

"Now this seems familiar," he quipped lightly, closing the door behind him and smiling down at her as her eyes sparkled back at him. "I seem to recall attending a wedding not so long ago where you visited me just before the ceremony."

Payson tilted her head and her smile grew, "Good thing too or I'm sure you would have bolted."

_Marty didn't even have the good grace to look offended as he told him to bugger off and Sasha was about to continue his verbal assault when a soft knock at the door drew their attention away. _

"_Stay," Marty instructed and moved to the door sticking his head out into the hallway, not allowing Sasha to see past him. _

_Sasha rolled his eyes and moved towards the mirror again, yanking at the cuffs of his jacket, making sure he looked presentable. He heard the door click shut again. _

"_Stop fidgeting, you don't fidget in Armani," a soft voice called from the doorway and he turned to see Payson standing there, leaning up against the closed door looking more radiant than he ever could have imagined. "I thought you learned that lesson already?" she quipped as he smiled at her. _

"_Apparently I needed a reminder," he said, crossing the room quickly towards her. "What are you doing here?"_

_She bit her lip and then looked down at her dress, smoothing the fabric over her still flat stomach. It was a gorgeous dress, the soft fabric slipping over her body. He hadn't seen the dress until this very moment and she took his breath away. He thought wedding dresses were generally large, puffy, monstrosities, but Payson as usual defied convention. The dress was understated, no large bows or frightening frills, no plunging necklines, but the expanse of her shoulders and collarbone highlighted by the soft white fabric hugging to her, more than hinting at her wondrous curves made his throat dry. _

_Her voice brought him back, "I was just…I was just checking," she said finally and closed the distance between them, taking his hands in hers. "I'm so nervous, not because, not because I'm unsure, but everyone else is driving me crazy and I just…" she trailed off._

"_I needed to see you too," he said, finishing the thought and wholeheartedly agreeing with her, giving her hands a soft tug, pulling her into his arms. _

_She sighed as she leaned against him and they took strength from each other. Finally, they pulled back, "Better?" he asked, knowing holding her close had somehow calmed the storm within him._

"_So much better," she said, leaning away, adjusted the lapels of his jacket again. His hands slid from her waist around to her stomach, pressing lightly against her abdomen. _

"_You look beautiful and I can't wait to marry you," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers._

"_Me too," she whispered, resting her hands atop his and squeezing gently before stepping away and slipping back out the door._

_Sasha smiled watching her go. He was ready. _

Payson stood off to the side watching Ronnie Cruz tear up as she helped Kaylie pin her veil into place. Kaylie looked gorgeous and she smiled as her friend practically glowed with happiness.

A little hand slipped into hers and tugged gently, "Mommy," the tiny voice asked for her attention. She looked down and saw a miniature of her husband looking up at her, tears in his eyes. "Mommy, I found you," he announced, before burying his face into the skirt of her dress.

"Alex, what are you doing here?" she asked, bending to his height, brushing his blonde hair off his forehead. "Why aren't you with Daddy?" She straightened the lapels of her son's suit jacket and was relieved when she saw he was clutching the small pillow with the rings tied to it. Whoever thought it was a good idea to give a four year old the real rings and this long before the actual ceremony must have been crazy.

"Wanted you and Ana," he mumbled, releasing the pillow as she took it from him.

"Alex," another tiny voice called from across the room where she'd been staring at Kaylie in awe. Payson watched as her little tow-headed daughter raced over to find her twin brother, "See the princess," she suggested, taking his hand. Alex and Ana wandered over and Payson smiled as the photographer cooed and snapped a shot of them holding hands staring up at Kaylie.

"S'not princess, s'Aunt Kay," Alex whispered to his sister.

"Princess Aunt Kay," Ana agreed very seriously.

The entire room, full of women ranging from eighteen to just over fifty melted at the same time and Payson smiled at her children, the lights of her life and though she was biased, perhaps the most adorable duo to ever set foot on earth.

"Okay, young man," she called, "let's go find your Daddy."

"Daddy?" Ana asked, looking hopeful, as they both turned towards her.

"Daddy," Alex echoed, racing towards her, pulling his sister along with him.

"_And these are my gold medals," Sasha whispered, holding Ana in the crook of his arm as they walked past the trophy case in their office. The gym was empty and Payson had come to pick him up before they went to her parent's house for dinner. _

_Payson looked up from where she was changing Alex on the small futon across the room. "She's six months old, Sasha."_

"_Never too early for her to understand that her Dad is a big deal and that no other man will ever measure up," he quipped and she shook her head with a smile. Her mother had warned her about this, about fathers and daughters; it was a special bond, one that she wouldn't always understand. _

"_And it's not important for Alex to understand that too?" she asked, securing the diaper in place, before lifting him into her arms and tossing the soiled diaper away. _

_Sasha scoffed. "He already knows, don't you, fiul meu?" he asked, using his free hand to stroke gently against Alex's downy cheek. _

She knocked on the door to where the men were preparing and turned towards the twins who were currently examining the tiny jewels the lined the waist of Ana's dress.

She heard a very familiar voice clear his throat and she turned to face him with a smile.

"Now this seems familiar," he said. "I seem to recall attending a wedding not so long ago where you visited me just before the ceremony."

Payson tilted her head and her smile grew, "Good thing too or I'm sure you would have bolted."

He laughed and for a moment their eyes met and that old familiar electricity was back, not that it ever really disappeared for long, even after five years of marriage and running around after very energetic twins in the middle of an Olympic cycle.

"Did you lose something?" she asked, handing him the pillow, the rings tied securely to it.

"Daddy!" two voices echoed from behind her and then toddled around her to grasp his legs tightly.

"He escaped," Sasha said, looking down at Alex, his brow furrowed anxiously. "Were you lost, fiul meu?" he asked, leaning down and pulling Alex up into his arms.

"I found Mommy and Ana," Alex agreed innocently, resting his head on Sasha's shoulder.

"You were supposed to stay with Daddy," Sasha admonished, his tone stern and Alex met his eyes sadly. "What if we had lost you?" he asked, "Mommy and Daddy would have been very sad."

"Not sad, Daddy, happy Daddy," Alex said, pushing his little hands against Sasha's face literally turning his firm frown into a smile with his fingers.

"Happy Daddy," Ana echoed from his thigh, "Up?" she asked and Sasha obliged her, lifting her into his other arm easily. Payson couldn't help it, the laughter had been building since Alex arrived in the other room and finally it bubbled to the surface.

"I think we can save the scolding for later," she said, stepping closer to him, resting her hands gently against the warm backs of their children wanting to join in on the moment, bringing them together unexpectedly.

"See Mommy, not lost, f_ound,"_ Alex said, as they stood together, a family, this moment the result of so many other moments, when the world felt like it was closing in around them, letting them get lost, but finding each other, always, despite everything, always finding each other.

"Yes, love, not lost, never lost," Sasha echoed in a whisper as he quickly brushed his lips against hers, "_found."_

* * *

**A/N: **And so this fic comes to an end. I wish I could thank each and every one of you personally for all your support as I wrote this story. It's been a great journey from a silly little side project to something that I'm extremely proud of. That being said, however, this is really only the beginning because I believe, despite the small glimpses I gave you into Payson and Sasha's wedding day and Alexander and Ana Belov's early life there is going to be A LOT to explore. Oh and if you'd like to see the adorable duo all dolled up for the Cruz-Tucker wedding there's a picture linked in my profile. I mean seriously, could those two very real children look any more like a product of Payson Keeler and Sasha Belov? It's fate. ;-) I really hope you enjoyed this "ending." Please let me know what you thought!


	20. A New Contest

****CONTEST IS OVER****

**WINNER: LAURAW89**

**Her Request: Smut from the Renegade and the Phoenix Universe! **

**MY BIG NEWS**

**The digital rights to my novel, _Game. Set. Match._ were purchased, along with the rights to two yet to be written sequels. **

**Yes, that's going to be around 200,000 words in that universe! The first book will be released in mid to late Spring of 2013!**

**Check out the details here: jenniferiacopelli dot ****blogspot dot com**


	21. GAME SET MATCH is Live!

Hi everyone,

As many of you know, the reason I stopped writing MIOBI fanfiction was that I was working on my own original work, GAME. SET. MATCH. I'm so excited to announce that GSM is out there in the world and ready to read!

Holly Sorensen, the creator of MIOBI was even kind enough to read it and write a blurb for the novel! Here's what she had to say:

"Everyone is playing for keeps both on and off the court in Jennifer Iacopelli's addictive first novel. If you like passionate girls who put it all on the line, hot men who are hard to read, and friendship that's about more than gossip and clothes, look no further than the Outer Banks Tennis Academy. There you'll find three rising stars, whose love, sweat and tears will have you cheering from page one. I can't wait for the next book!"

So if you loved NJYbA, Lost and Found, Chasing Glory and my other MIOBI fics, I think you'll love GSM too! The reviews so far have been awesome and one reader even compared it to MIOBI.

If you head to Amazon or Barnes & Noble's websites and type in my real name, "Jennifer Iacopelli" (what jci stands for, Jennifer Carolyn Iacopelli).

I want to thank you all for all of your support over the last few years!

Thanks so much!

JCI


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